A Collection of Ideas
by SpencerRemyLvr
Summary: Here's a series of Ideas and the scenes they inspired. I'm not sure where any of these scenes will go, or if they'll ever turn into more stories, but if you'd really like to see more, let me know! They will all, naturally, be Remy/Spencer slash, though there may be a gen one or two thrown in for kicks. Mostly, though, for now they're just one-shots, read at your own risk!
1. Chapter 1

_Part one of a series of Ideas and the scenes they inspired. I'm not sure where any of these scenes will go, or if they'll ever turn into more stories, but if you'd really like to see more, let me know! I'm going to post them as chapters on here, and individual stories over on A03._

_"After a case gone bad that left him traumatized and disabled, Spencer quit the Bureau and moved away, shutting himself off from the world. Until one day, his little sanctuary is broken open by a man with a sharp grin and laughing devil eyes."_

* * *

The sun was just starting to dip low in the sky when Spencer Reid stood at the back of his truck and loaded his groceries inside. An absent look at the sky told him he'd been smart to stick the canopy on; it looked like there was a good chance of rain starting up before he finally got home. He quickly finished settling his bags in the truck and securing them into place. Once he had them all in, he shut the back hatch and put his cart in one of the nearby caddies before heading to the driver's seat. His hand curled around the inside handle to help hold himself steady as he leveraged his body into the truck with just a slight wince for the pull on protesting muscles. As always, he pushed away the thought, only giving a moment to absently rub at the throbbing in his right thigh. A long soak in the tub was going to be in order as soon as he got home and got these groceries unloaded or he was going to be in for a very long night.

Spencer locked his seatbelt into place and then started up his ancient truck. Just a hint of a smile touched his lips as it always did when the now familiar roar filled the air. Wouldn't people be surprised to see him now? Spencer Reid, awkward little genius often dubbed an 'absent minded professor' because of his fashion sense, dressed down to a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and driving around in a truck that was older than his father. The surprise wouldn't end there, though. He knew they'd be surprised to see his home here, too. This definitely wasn't typical 'Reid' style.

'Here' was a private, cozy house, about twenty minutes outside of the city of Salt Lake City, Utah, in the middle of a forest set on private land that had cost him a hefty sum of money to get. The house afforded him privacy from the world around him, a place to relax and unwind and escape from people while still providing him with easy access to the city. No matter how low he got, no matter how much he needed to hide out a while, he was too much of a city boy at heart to be too far from one. This was a perfect fit for him right now. If he so wished, he could easily head into the city and do whatever he needed to do. Or he could stay in the quiet of his home, where the only thing outside were trees and sky.

Still, he could picture the expressions some people would wear if they caught sight of him driving down the road in this truck. That thought entertained him as he pulled out of the parking lot and started to make his way toward home. He could hear them in his mind, their voices laced with disbelief.

_"__You live here? Seriously? Like…seriously?"_ Penelope would say to him.

Derek would most likely laugh. _"__I swear, pretty boy, you're one hell of a mystery. Who would've pictured you out here with nature. And not a library in sight!"_

Dave and Aaron would understand, Spencer thought. Emily, probably, too. They'd understand the appeal of this place. JJ, well, she'd been the one to help Spencer find this. She'd helped him find this little sanctuary and had promised him she'd tell no one where it was, or how to find him. It was the way he'd wanted it when he left and it was way he still knew it needed to be. Every now and again JJ would come and see him and bring him news of his friends, always bearing gifts and letters from them, and those would have to be enough. Spencer had come out here to escape his world. He knew he couldn't do that with all of his friends around, no matter how badly he missed them.

Thinking of them brought on that same pang that it always did. Spencer took his next turn and tried not to let himself care. It never worked. Almost three years he'd been living here and still, he found himself missing them, missing home, at least once a day. He'd find himself thinking of the people who had been his friends, his family, and he'd feel that clench in his heart again. He'd get that urge to pack up and go back home. "It's not home anymore." He reminded himself, shivering as his voice echoed softly in the confines of the truck. There was no home there for him anymore. Not since that day, three years ago, when his home had been violated. Not just violated—ripped apart and destroyed. It wasn't his home anymore. That had been ruined. Now it was a horror, and Spencer didn't need to be there every day to see it. He saw it often enough in his dreams. He didn't need the daily reminder.

The drive home took a little longer than normal as the dark clouds overhead finally gave in to their promise for rain. He unloaded his groceries and tried to keep himself as dry as possible. Mentally he ran through what he had and what he'd bought and he gave a small, pleased nod as he started to put things away. Good. It looked like he'd have plenty. The river had looked high when he'd drive across the bridge and onto his property. With the way the rain was coming down and the weather reports he'd heard, there was a good chance that the bridge would flood over, effectively trapping him here. There was only the one road to and from the cabin, once off the main road, which was a plus in some ways, but a down in others. Namely, when bad weather struck and the river rose, trapping him here. But he'd learned how to stock himself up for just those times.

There was a chance he could lose power, too, if the storm got any worse overnight. Luckily, there was plenty of wood chopped to keep him warm enough. He'd been surprised to find just how much he enjoyed the fireplaces in his new home when he'd first moved in. Oh, sure, learning how to chop wood had been a pain—literally. But his doctor had actually encouraged it as a form of physical therapy and so Spencer had worked through the pain of it until, nowadays, he sometimes even enjoyed the physical labor of chopping the wood and stacking it on his covered porch. Who would've ever figured him, scrawny little him, actually doing something that required _muscle_, and _enjoying_ it? JJ had teased him about it endlessly when she'd caught him at it during one of her visits. But the looked she'd given him even as she'd teased had been warm and loving.

However, right now he was immensely glad he'd cut some wood a few days ago and that there was plenty enough on the porch to get him through a few days if need be. Right now he doubted he'd be able to even lift the ax properly. Swinging it would be dangerous as hell. There was no telling what he'd end up hitting.

Slowly, achingly, he folded up his reusable bags and put them into the pantry where he stored them. Then he made his careful way out of the kitchen, sparing a moment to check to make sure the doors and windows were all shut and locked before heading down the hall to the master bedroom. He bypassed the very alluring looking bed, promising himself sleep soon enough, and made a beeline straight for the bathroom with only a brief stop to grab comfortable clothes from the dresser.

This room had been another selling point behind this house. Whoever had owned this place before had definitely splurged on a few things when they'd built it. The kitchen, for one, which somehow managed to feel comfortable and homey while still being built in a way that would probably make some chefs jealous, and the bathroom was another area that they'd splurged on. The master bathroom had a long vanity with a bench seat, a shower stall to one side, near the toilet, and against the other wall was a raised Jacuzzi tub. A _huge_ Jacuzzi tub. It was raised up just enough that Spencer could sit down on the edge of it without having to bend to far, and on those days that it was hard from him to move, it was easy to pull himself out to the tub edge and then just turn his legs out of the tub and his feet touched the ground with barely any effort needed to straighten up. Those kinds of days happened to often for his liking, even after all these years.

Spencer sat down at the edge of the tub and leaned in to get the water started. He made sure it was hot enough, just shy of boiling his skin, and then he set the plug and moved away while the tub filled. One hand rubbed at his thigh absently while he made his way to the counter to start unloading his pockets. Change from his pockets went into the little jar he kept in here that was already three quarters of the way full of loose change. Next came his cell phone, which he never traveled anywhere without. Next came the other item he never traveled without—he pulled his gun from the ankle holster and set that down on the counter as well, close enough to be in reach of the tub if he had to move quickly.

He had to sit himself down on the bench to get low enough to remove his shoes and socks. The socks were tossed into the hamper and the shoes set onto the countertop for now. In quick order, he shed the rest of his clothes, tossing them all into the hamper, until he was down to just the last few items.

The brace around his knee and thigh came off first. The only reason he'd worn those today was because he'd been out shopping and being up on that leg for extended periods of time wasn't smart without the brace in place. He ignored the scars that were uncovered, signs of the damage hidden within. He knew them all by heart. Knew which ones were from the surgery that had worked to repair the shattered knee, which ones came from where his thighbone had broken through the skin. He could trace each and every one of them without even having to look and he could tell the story that went with each. But he didn't. He set that brace down and moved on to the next. With his left hand he reached over to his right and pulled the thin leather glove off, setting that down. Then he drew off the prosthetic that covered half of his right hand. He ignored these scars, too, though not as easily as he did with his leg. It wasn't easy to ignore the gap of the three missing fingers. For just one brief moment he curled in his index finger and thumb, making a facsimile of a fist, the ache in his hand spreading a little. Then, with a deep breath out, he relaxed his hand once more.

His steps were only slightly heavy as he moved to shut the water off. Without the brace, his leg didn't move as easily, nor as pain free, and it took him a second to walk over there. Once the water was off he made sure a towel was nearby and then he sat down on the edge of the tub and carefully lifted his aching leg up and then into the hot water with only a soft hiss to show his pain. That hiss turned into a drawn out sigh when he slid the rest of his body down into the water. Ah, _yes_. The heat surrounded him and his whole body seemed to slump down into it. This was _exactly_ what he'd needed. After a long day spent in town his body needed this relaxation. Trips into town were rare for him so he tended to pack as much as possible into one day. For the most part, he was content to spend his time here, away from people. Away from the world.

_"__You can't hide out forever, Spence_." JJ had told him the last time she was here. She'd sat on the front porch with him while they'd drank their morning coffee and she'd watched him with those big eyes of hers that looked at him with love and understanding and sympathy, but never pity. Thank God, never pity. _"__What kind of life are you living here? A person needs more than books in their life._"

"_My stories are good enough for me."_ He'd told her. And they were.

This life he'd built here, it was good enough. It was _safe_. There was nothing in the world more important than that.

Spencer sighed and sank a little lower down into the water until it was tickling at his chin. With practiced skill, he pushed away the dark thoughts, letting the heat of the water warm him straight down to his bones until he felt like every bit of him had simply melted here. He might've come close to drifting off to sleep if it wasn't for the sudden flickering of the lights. That was enough to draw his heavy eyes open and bring him back to reality. Time to get out of here. He needed to get a fire built in the bedroom before the power really went out. Best to get it going while it was still warm in here.

Fifteen minutes later Spencer was in his comfortable sweats and a long sleeved shirt, carefully kneeling and coaxing the small blaze to life in his bedroom fireplace. He'd just managed to bring it to life when he heard the very last thing he'd expected—a hard knock on his front door.

For one instant Spencer froze. His whole body locked down and his wide eyes snapped up and towards the direction of the front of the house while his heart jackhammered in his chest. Who the hell was here, at his place? In _this_ weather?

A second knock jarred him out of his stupor. Immediately, his left hand slid around to the back of his pants where he'd set his gun on his way out of the bathroom. There was absolutely no hesitation in him when he drew it and checked to make sure it was loaded and the safety was off. The gun stayed firmly in his hand while he made his way cautiously out towards the living room. There was a very large part of him that wanted nothing more than to take up a careful position here in his living room where he wouldn't be seen—there, against the side of the cabinet, perfectly hidden from anyone who came through the door while still allowing him a clear line of sight—and just wait for the person to leave. Why on earth would anyone be out in weather like this, let alone knocking at his door? How on earth would they have even gotten across the bridge? There was no way it wasn't flooded over by now! The rain was coming down in buckets out there!

But the other part of him, the part that still held something of the person he'd once been, couldn't just stand here. What if this person was lost, or hurt, or in need of some kind of assistance?

Against all better judgment, Spencer forced himself across those last few feet and, with his gun held ready at his side, he answered his door.

The very first thing he saw was a pair of laughing devil eyes framed by chunks of soaking wet hair. Hair that was plastered to a face that was stretched with a wide grin that matched the devilish humor of those eyes. "Hey dere." The man said, and his voice came out like whiskey, warm and husky, and there was just a hint of a laugh at the edges. "_Je suis désolé, monsieur, _I don't mean to disturb y, _mais _my name's Remy and I was on m' way to see a friend of mine somewhere in dese parts an I t'ink I got a bit turned round, an den de damn mud got so t'ick I couldn't get m' bike to go nowhere. I was hoping maybe y' might have a phone I could use? M' cell aint working an I need to call Logan an tell him to come and find m' ass, cause dis city boy is sure as shit lost out in all dese trees."

The rush of words that tumbled from this man had Spencer speechless for a moment. When he could find his voice, which took a very pregnant pause and the clearing of his throat, he blurted out the very first thing that came to mind, no matter how stupid it sounded. "Not many carriers get cell service up here. Just one, really." Stupid, stupid! The man was soaking wet and here Spencer was talking about _cell phone carriers_.

Remy didn't seem bothered by his inane words. If anything, his grin grew wider and just a bit brighter. "Go figure. Leave it to Logan to pick some place in de boonies dat aint even got good reception. Sounds like just his kinda t'ing."

"I've got a phone that works." Spencer found himself blurting out. The voice inside of him screamed out '_Stupid!'_ at him, but it didn't stop him. It was like his self-preservation took a sudden backseat. All those years at the BAU had apparently taught him _absolutely nothing_. Letting strangers into your home when you're miles from civilization and there's no one around to help was never a good idea. Yet Spencer took a step back and gestured in towards his living room. "Why don't you come inside and I'll go get it for you? I still have power, so it's still warm in here. Better than standing on the porch."

If he'd thought Remy's smile was bright before, it was nothing compared to the one that was beamed at him now. "_Merci_!" He exclaimed happily. He accepted Spencer's invitation without hesitation and strode inside like he'd been doing so for years, moving with an ease and confidence that Spencer had never been able to replicate, not even back in his better days.

As Spencer shut the door behind his new guest, he cursed himself roundly, calling himself every stupid name in the book. What was he doing, letting some stranger in to the house? Hadn't he learned his lesson? Hadn't he learned _anything_? Briefly, he pressed his forehead against the door. No, no, this wasn't the same. This was completely different. He wasn't helpless this time. He was armed, as prepared as anyone can be, and he was smart. He wasn't going to be caught unawares like that ever again.

Slipping his bad hand into his pocket, he lifted his other hand and deliberately put his gun in the front of his pants, after making sure the safety was back on, of course. Let the man see that he was armed. Let him be aware. Spencer lifted his chin and wiped any expression off his face. Then he turned around to look at the man who was now standing near the fall wall by the heater, watching him with one eyebrow raised. He didn't even flinch at the sight of the gun. Spencer put on his best fake smile and squared his shoulders. "You go ahead and stand there and get warm .I'll go and get the phone for you." _Then you can make your call and get out of my life, before I do anything else stupid around you._


	2. Chapter 2

_"Spencer up and quits his job and vanishes and the team is convinced that there's something wrong, but no one believes them. They think he just up and quit and that's it. Only, Garcia can't find him anywhere, and they know there's no way he'd just leave. So Rossi calls up an old friend, Logan, and asks if he can help find and retrieve their genius."_

* * *

None of them saw it coming. Looking back at it, they all wondered how they couldn't have seen it, how they'd missed the little signs and warnings that were now so glaringly obvious. They were profilers, a group of men and women trained to read things in people's body language, to understand human behavior and use it to predict what someone was going to do. True, they were trained to do that on the job, with their Unsub—their bad guy—but it wasn't a skill you just turned off when off the job. Though they tried not to, they all profiled one another all the time. It had become something automatic. Yet they'd missed every single sign that their youngest member showed and they were kicking themselves for it now. Maybe if they'd paid more attention, if they'd asked questions instead of just ignoring things, they might not be here now. Spencer might not be gone.

Derek had been the one to find out what was going on and bring them the news. Only, by then it was already too late. He went bright and early one morning to pick Spencer up for work, a little worried about how quiet his friend had been lately. When he got to Spencer's apartment building he went upstairs as he'd done so many times before. Only, this time, something was very, very different. When he got up there, he found Spencer's door open, and it was a sign of how their work affected him in that he didn't just assume Spencer left the door open, or was on his way out. No, his hand went to his gun and his whole body braced for trouble while images of home invasions and Unsubs coming back for revenge flashed through his mind.

What he found was nothing like what he'd imagined. There was no Unsub, no attack, no signs of a struggle. In fact, there was nothing. Literally _nothing_. The whole apartment was empty. No furniture, no curtains, not even boxes with things packed inside. From floor to ceiling, the apartment was bare. Derek walked through it all and checked every single room. Each one was just as empty as the last—until he got to the kitchen. That was where he found the only things left in the entire apartment. One envelope, held to the fridge by a magnet. On the outside of the envelope were two words. _The Team._

Derek read through the letter standing there in the middle of Spencer's empty kitchen. As soon as he finished, he pulled out his cell phone. Though he knew it wouldn't work, he still tried Spencer's number first, only to be told it was no longer in service. Then he dialed the number of his boss. "Hotch?" He said when the man answered. "Something's happened to Reid…"

* * *

One hour later, the BAU team was gathered in the empty living room of what had once been Spencer's apartment. Because, as Derek had found out, this was no longer Spencer's. The manager had been clear on that. What he said was one of the first things that Derek shared with the team once they were all there. "I spoke with his manager." He told them, looking around at them all. Emily, JJ, Aaron, Dave, Penelope. This team that was more like family than friends. "He said that Reid showed up late in the day on Friday, after work from the sound of it, and that he told him he was moving and he'd be out by Monday. Then he paid him for the last month's rent."

"You said there was a letter?" Aaron asked. As always, he took control of the situation, the rock that held the team together no matter what was happening around them.

Derek blew out a breath and pulled the letter back out. Instead of handing it over, he unfolded it and read out the few words that had been scrawled across the page in Spencer's familiar handwriting.

"_To my friends,_

_I know you're upset right now and I apologize for that. I'm sorry that things had to be done this way. I'm sorry that I wasn't strong enough to do this face to face. But I couldn't run the risk of you guys trying to talk me out of this, and we all know that you would've tried._

_As you'll have realized by now, I'm gone, and I don't intend on coming back. Doing the job that we do, it takes so very much out of you. I've come to realize that it's taken from me all that I can give. There's nothing left. I've given my years, my innocence, my everything, all to this job. I've come to work every single day, forced to hide who I truly am from a government that would throw me out or imprison me if they ever found out I was a mutant. For these people, for this job, I've been kidnapped, drugged, killed and brought back, shot, beaten, hunted, tortured, humiliated—there is only so much a person can take before they reach their breaking point. I've reached mine. I finally understand now how Gideon could simply turn and walk away with only a letter of explanation. I was so furious with him for it back then, yet now, as I write this, I finally understand. Only, I won't make his mistake. I won't hurt a few of you by writing only to one. I address this to you all, my team that became my family, and I ask for your understanding and your forgiveness. Please understand that this is what I have to do. I need to leave._

_My apartment has been emptied, my resignation officially turned in. My time at the Bureau is done._

_I'm asking you to please respect my decisions and not try to find me. I'm asking you to let me go. This is what I need to do. I need a fresh start somewhere that isn't surrounded by death and evil. I need to find somewhere that I'm free to be myself without fear of my big 'secret' being discovered. When I find that, when I finally find my peace once more, I promise you I'll reach out. This isn't a forever goodbye. This is just 'until then'. Let me find myself first. Please. __Do not try to find me__._

_I never said it, but I love you all dearly. Take care of yourselves._

_Spencer._"

The room went for a few minutes once Derek was done reading. It was Penelope who finally broke that silence, unsurprisingly. "What do we do?" she asked them, looking from one face to the next. "We've got to find him!"

"No."

Aaron's firm voice startled everyone. All eyes turned to him and he quickly held up a hand for silence before they could say a word. "No." He repeated firmly. "We are not going to hunt him down. We're not going to do that to him. Reid's made it very clear in there what he wants and what he needs and we're going to respect that."

"But sir," Emily tried, just slightly hesitant, something that was rare for her.

"No." Aaron repeated, and in his tone was a final note they all knew so well. It was the voice of their Unite Chief, not their friend, letting them know that this was his final point and he wasn't going to be moved from it. "Like Reid said, our job takes a lot out of a person and it's taken a lot from him. We all know the struggles he's had over the years. Not once has he ever asked us for anything, not for any kind of help. The least we can do now is respect his wishes the one time he does ask us for something. We're going to let him go and wait for when he contacts us. I think he's earned that."

How could they argue with that? It felt so wrong to just let him go, to not try and find him and find out if he was okay or what had happened to spark this, but Aaron was right. He'd earned the right to have them respect his wishes. He'd never asked them for anything before. They couldn't just dismiss it the one time he did.

Still, as they walked out of the apartment, each one of them felt that small sense of wrongness in the back of their minds that would come to haunt them over the next few months.

* * *

It took four months before the search for Spencer truly started. Though they hated it, they all tried to do as he asked and let him go. They tried to give him time to find what he was searching for and to let him be the one to reach out. It was no surprise, though, when the others found that Penelope had reached out. That she had, in fact, been reaching out for almost that entire four months. She didn't tell anyone that she was doing it, not wanting to hear them argue with her to let him go. She couldn't just let him go. She couldn't! He was part of her family, one of her babies, and she had to know he was at least okay. Only, there was nothing for her to find. So, four months after they found that goodbye letter, Penelope walked into Aaron's office and told him "I think something happened to Reid."

They all gathered quickly in the conference room. All it took was mention of their friend and they all came. And in there, Penelope explained what she'd been doing.

"I know you guys said to just let him go, but I couldn't do it." She told them all. She didn't look apologetic, though. She looked, worried. "I've been trying to track Reid down ever since we found that letter. I've kept my eye out and tried to hunt him down ever since then."

"Tried?" Emily asked. She, like the others, had caught on to that one word and all its possible meanings.

Penelope winced and nodded her head. "That's the thing—I haven't found anything. And I do mean _anything_. It's like he up and vanished off the face of the earth."

"You haven't found anything?" There was surprise in Derek's voice when he asked that, as well as a bit of worry. He'd been worrying about his missing friend for a while now but he'd tried to convince himself that Spencer was just somewhere else, settling in. If he was, though, Penelope should be able to find him.

"Nothing." She said. "No bills, no credit card activity, no cell phones. He hasn't put his name on a lease, a utility bill, a new bank account—nothing. The only activity on his current bank account is the continued payments to his mom's care, but other than that, he's not showing up anywhere. If he just went somewhere and started over there should be some kind of paper trail. But there's not. I even," Pausing, she flushed a little, knowing they might not approve of what she'd done. "I even checked in discreetly with his Mom and found out that he hasn't been sending her letters. Her doctor said they got one phone call, two weeks ago, but it was nothing more than a quick check on her condition, and he was off the phone as soon as they told him. Other than that, they've heard nothing from him."

That had everyone sitting up a little straighter. They all knew just how close Spencer was to his mother. He'd admitted to Penelope once that he wrote to her every day. Derek knew that Spencer called once a week to check in with his mom's doctor and to speak with her for a bit, if she was having one of her good days. He'd been taking care of his mentally ill mother since he was ten years old, maybe even before, and for him to have stopped writing and to call _once_ in four months was a very serious sign that something was terribly wrong.

"I can't get the Bureau to approve a search." Aaron told them. He'd made a few calls already after Penelope had spoken with him in his office. While waiting for her to gather the others, he'd tried to do what little he could, only to be stonewalled at each avenue. "They won't stop us from looking for him, but we're not going to be granted any time off to treat this like a case. As far as they're concerned, he willingly left the Bureau and there's nothing to support any trouble. Whatever we do, it's going to be done on our personal time."

"What can we do, though?" Penelope asked them. She'd been running this search on her own for four months now and was more than happy to let someone else be in charge. She worked best when given something to work with, little details to work out, while the main part of the plan fell to others. To Aaron, more specifically.

"If PG can't find him online, no one can." Emily said. She sat back, unconsciously picking at her finger. "We'll have to profile him. Look at what might've happened around the time that he left. If he ran like this, something had to send him running."

"Not just running. Hiding." Dave pointed out.

"It would have to be something big." JJ said. "Spence isn't the type to just run. The only thing I can see that would make him run was if it was to protect someone." _Us_. She didn't say it but they all heard it. The only reason that Spencer would run would be to protect them from something. The same way that Emily had run when Doyle was after her. She'd run to keep her family safe. Spencer had to be doing the same thing. He was protecting them, or someone else equally important. But from what?

What was so bad that he hadn't felt safe asking them for help?

* * *

Even with the entire team on it, they were no close to finding him eleven weeks later. Spencer had been gone for almost seven months now. If it weren't for the fact that Diana had received three letters from him during that time—each one of them carefully worded and mailed so that there were no clues left behind—they wouldn't even know that he was still alive. But they had nothing to go on to help them find him. Penelope still couldn't find him electronically and the others hadn't been able to find anything that would've sent him running like this. Yet more and more they were sure that there was _something_ that had sent him running. Something important. They were just all afraid they were running out of time to find out what it was.

They were out of ideas and almost out of hope. Once more they were gathered in the round table room, their current case done with, and they were trying to think of anything that they could do that hadn't already been done. Ideas were tossed back and forth and they were coming up with nothing.

All except for Dave. There was one idea sitting in the back of his head where it had been percolating for a little while now. He'd been loath to voice it before now. First he'd wanted to see if they could find Spencer on their own. However, it was beginning to look like that wasn't going to be possible. Wherever Spencer had gone, he was beyond their abilities to find. But he might not be beyond someone else's abilities. Dave waited for a lull in the conversation before he finally decided what he was going to do. "I might know someone that can help us." He said into the silence.

Surprise spread around the table. All eyes turned towards him. "Who?" Derek asked quickly. His eagerness to do anything to find his friend showed clearly on his face.

"An old friend." Dave said. It was the best he would give them. The less they knew about this, the better, and not just because he didn't want to get their hopes up. There were quite a few reasons that it was best to keep these two different parts of his life separate from one another. They were on such opposite ends of the spectrum. "Let me go give him a call. You guys just continue with what you're doing. I'm not sure he'll be able to help, so I don't really want to get into it yet. Not until I know."

He could see that they all had questions. They didn't ask, though. Aaron was the only one to do anything and all he did was nod at him.

Dave made sure his office door was shut and locked once he got inside. Then he settled down behind his desk and pulled out his cell phone, dialing a number he hadn't used for almost a year now. He wasn't even sure it would still work. But after only three rings, a familiar growling voice came over the line. "_Rossi. Been a while since I've heard from ya._"

"I wasn't even sure this number would still work. It's been a few months since you left me that message." Dave admitted, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. It had been seven months, actually, since he'd had a message on his answering machine letting him know about this new number. He'd only called it once, back then, before their lives got too busy for them to really talk at all. But he needed him now. "I need your help, Logan."

"_Whatever I can, Rossi. Just tell me what ya need._"

"I need you to help me find my friend."


	3. Cherish the Child

_This one is a prompt that was actually given to me by someone else and I already had a piece that I wrote, well, years ago, that fit the bill oddly enough. So, here it is, un'beta'd, and potentially crap lol_

_"Spencer finds a mutant child during a case and ends up bring her/him home"_

* * *

It wasn't sound that drew Spencer's attention. No, it was the emotions that suddenly seemed to explode on the night air, slamming straight into his shields like a solid punch. He stumbled, Morgan's hands saving him from falling to the ground. "Reid? What is it?"

"Someone's terrified." Spencer gasped out. Not just scared, but terrified. Only a strong terror could have hit him that hard while he was shielded like this. He didn't think about what he was doing or who was even with him before he started running in the direction of that fear. He had to help whoever that was. There was no way he could walk away without trying to find out what was going on. He ignored Morgan calling his name and instead raced forward, darting down the nearby alley. After checking to make sure the coast was clear, Spencer shamelessly used his powers to help him make a charged jump from the ground to the top of the fence at the back of the alley. His eyes were already taking in the sight waiting on the other side. There was a child curled behind a dumpster, sobbing hysterically and rocking back and forth. Two men were currently trying to pull the dumpster out of the way to get to the child.

"Hey!" Spencer shouted. He dropped down from the top of the fence, landing the way Remy had taught him so that he absorbed and lessened the impact, feeling only a small twinge in his knee. "What do you think you're doing?"

It was a good thing he was already holding his powers and was prepared for something because a knife came flying at him before he'd finished speaking. A surge of electricity acted as a momentary shield in front of him and he dove sideways, gathering power in his hands. One of the men turned toward him while the other continued to try to move the dumpster. As he looked at them, Spencer vaguely noticed the look to their clothes as well as their masks and his brain caught up with the rest of him. These were Assassins. Son of a bitch. "Just back off." He told them. "And let the child go. No one has to be hurt."

"Y' t'ink y' can hurt us, _homme_?" One of the men taunted behind his mask. "Run away, b'fore we make y' run. Dis is no business of y'rs."

If there was one thing he had learned, it was that people like this would not back off of their target. Still, he'd had to try. Spencer spared a small bit of power to shield the fence—he could see his friend getting ready to try to scale the fence to help him—keeping Morgan back and away from this fight. Then he gathered raw power in his hands, letting it grow. "You cannot have her." He told them. Then, with a deep, calming breath, Spencer committed himself to his plan and pushed aside all doubt. No matter how out of character this may be, no matter what this meant he had to do, he would not allow a child to be murdered. Not when he could stop it. He committed himself to doing whatever was necessary to stop this.

Instead of charging straight at them, or throwing the energy in his hands, Spencer did something he knew they wouldn't expect. He took the energy in each hand and flattened them out so that held what looked to be a long stick in each hand. Then he moved like a lightning strike, darting in and spinning the first stick towards the man's head. He didn't really need to fight them; he knew that. What he needed was to get close enough in the alley to be able to shock them without getting any charge on the dumpster and frying the child. That was going to be the trick. To do that, he needed to get his hands on them.

It was in his benefit that they had underestimated him, yet they definitely had him outdone on skill. The man made sure to stay out of Spencer's reach, trying instead to use his knives while not touching him, earning Spencer a small cut on his forearm and one on the opposite bicep. But finally the man went to kick him, a foot to the gut that Spencer took. The man must have thought Spencer could only charge his hands. That was his mistake. Spencer let the charge go over his body and up the man's foot, zapping him and taking him down.

A high pitched scream brought Spencer back to the girl. He started to spin at the same time that the man from the dumpster leapt directly onto his back. There was no time to think, no time to blink, before a cord wrapped around Spencer's neck. This man was smarter, though. He tugged back so that he was resting against the dumpster, preventing Spencer from charging him. "Y' charge me, y' charge de girl." The man snarled in his ear. Spencer's hands were at his neck, trying to grab for the cord, trying to get a way to get it off. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe! Fighting for air, Spencer could still hear the girl crying and Morgan shouting his name, but he couldn't focus on them. His legs scrabbled to kick back, to take out anything he could behind him, but the Assassin had moved so that all Spencer hit was the dumpster.

He couldn't charge, but Spencer wasn't completely without weapons. Groping a hand up, he grabbed at one of the hands holding the cord, pushing his fingers at the cloth until skin touched skin. The man wasn't afraid, thinking that Spencer couldn't charge. That wasn't what he was doing, though. With the skin to skin contact helping, Spencer used his empathy, projecting a blast of fear as strong as he could manage, taking what he felt from the girl and feeding it to the man. It was enough of a shock that the man's hands relaxed momentarily and Spencer took full advantage of that. He made his whole body go limp, dropping down toward the ground in a way Morgan had taught him to do. It momentarily choked him once more, but it brought the man down with him and allowed Spencer to roll them both to the side, away from the dumpster. As soon as they were clear, he charged his skin, shocking the man and knocking him out.

The minute the hands loosened around his neck, Spencer grabbed the cord and threw it away, rolling over to his hands and knees to gasp and cough, trying to draw air into his abused lungs. His head was swimming and he was wheezing, but he looked up to try and see if the child was still behind the dumpster. She was. Spencer made himself crawl toward her, lifting one hand when he got close. "It's okay." He said in a low, hoarse voice. Another cough took him and it took a second to breathe past it. When it was done, he tried to speak again, his throat protesting to the attempt. "It's okay, child. Shh. No one's going to hurt you now." He tried to send feelings of calm and safety to her. As best as he could, he tried to remember how he'd seen JJ calm a hysterical Henry and he used that knowledge to try to talk down the child now.

It seemed to be working. Slowly but surely her crying tapered off and she uncurled, looking up at him. Spencer saw then what he hadn't been able to see before. This was no typical child. She was most definitely a mutant, but the poor girl looked anywhere from six to seven years old. Her skin was a dark, dark green, as was her hair, but it was her hands that caught his attention. It looked like her hand was split into a Y, as if she had only two wide fingers instead of a regular palm and fingers, but towards the top they split into separate fingers with small claws, much like a chameleons. A glance down showed him her feet were the same way.

A sound behind Spencer alerted him to someone moving and he reacted instinctively, placing his back toward the girl and lifting a hand full of electricity. He felt the girl dart forward, wrapping tightly around him, arms and legs coming around his waist in an obvious bid for protection from what she perceived as a new threat. Spencer quickly relaxed when he saw it was just Morgan. As the power faded from Spencer, Morgan dropped down to the ground by him, a hand lifting toward his throat. "Jesus, Reid. Are you fucking crazy?"

"It's been…suggested." Spencer wheezed a little. He brought a hand to his throat and touched it, coming away wet. Damn. He was bleeding. He braced one hand on Morgan and started to rise when he saw one of the assassins starting to rise from the ground. Spencer moved quickly, flinging his arm out in front of Morgan to keep him back while lifting the other one and gathering power. "Stick by me, child." He told the little girl. "Don't let go." Her limbs tightened around him as she clung much like a lizard would and Spencer felt something wrap around him; a quick look down showed a dark green tail wrapping around his thigh like a brace and he knew he was right in thinking she had a chameleon physiology. Then his attention was back on the two men rising from the ground. "Just let us go." He told them. "Don't do this."

"I will enjoy killing y'." Said the one who had choked him.

Another voice spoke down the alley, drawing all eyes and almost instantly easing some of Spencer's tension. "Lay one more hand on him and y'll be de one to die." Bella Donna Boudreaux said in a hard, cold voice. The woman came strolling down the alley as regal as any queen in court, dressed casually in slacks and a shirt, yet still displaying her Guild colors proudly. Behind her, silent in the shadows, Spencer's empathy told him there were two more men and most likely there were more he couldn't see or sense yet. She never went anywhere alone.

Belle strode straight to Spencer, ignoring the electrical ball he drew back in to himself. She was fearless as she put her back to the two men and stood directly in front of Spencer. One of her hands came up to touch his throat, his blood staining her fingertips. Then she lifted her eyes to his. "Tell me what happened to y' so I know if'n I need to kill de _connards_ dat did dis."

Spencer knew the threat wasn't an idle one. He put his hand on Morgan's arm, sending him a burst of reassurance and then warning, hoping he would understand to stay quiet. He kept his eyes on Belle's face as he answered her, explaining in detail what had happened from feeling the fear to right when she'd arrived. He knew better than to leave out details; that would only earn him trouble. And right now, no matter that he was momentarily safe, that could change with the blink of an eye and he knew that.

When he was done, Belle turned toward the two men. "Explain."

"She was at the LeFevre property." One of the men said. Apparently that made sense, because Belle nodded slightly. She turned to look at Spencer and the look she gave him had him taking a step back. "No." He knew he was stepping in murky ground here but there was no way he could back down. "No, Belle. I won't let it happen."

"Y'r telling me _non_ on dis?" One of her delicate eyebrows arched, her beautiful face calm and clear.

"I am." One of his hands came to rest protectively over the limbs still clutching at him. He felt the girl's terror as she hid her face against his back and it strengthened his convictions. "I won't let it happen."

"And what about when y' leave? De petit has no family here. She is alone on de streets."

Spencer met her gaze with a firm one of his own. "I won't leave her here."

"Are y' claiming responsibility fo' her? T'ink hard b'fore y' answer dis question." She warned him.

Even with the implications behind her question, he knew what his answer had to be. There was no way he would leave this girl here to be murdered as soon as he was gone. "Yes." He answered without hesitation.

For a moment Belle looked at him, searching his gaze. Then she gave a small nod. "So be it, den." Once more she turned to the two assassins. "De petit is under de protection of de Guild, now. Let it be known dat any who touch her risk punishment such as I see fit." Abruptly her face hardened and she was every inch a deadly looking woman. "Now, get back to de House and await y'r punishment."

"M'dame?" One of the men stupidly said.

The sound of Belle's slap echoed down the alley. "Y' dare question me?" She snarled at him. "By rights, I ought to kill y'." Raising the hand that still bore Spencer's blood, she shoved it in his face. "By shedding de blood of m' husband, y' attack me. Is dat what y' wanted to do, Luis? Was dat what y' wanted?"

"_Non_, m'dame." Panic was bright in the man's voice.

"I suggest y' run, _homme_. De both of y'. Now."

The two left quickly, almost melting into the shadows as they hurried away. Belle paid them no more attention. She turned fully back to Spencer again and everything about her softened. She lifted both hands up to his neck, tipping his chin up. From her pocket she pulled a cloth, pressing it against his neck. "It aint too bad. Y'll be sore fo' a while, but y' keep it clean and y'll be fine." She proclaimed. "Y' stop by and see Mattie and she'll give y' somet'ing fo' it, cher."

"_Merci_, Belle." Spencer told her with a smile.

Apparently Morgan had finally had enough. He stepped past Spencer's hand, moving up to look at the both of them. "Okay, someone explain to me what's going on here." He looked from one to the other, his expression clearly saying he demanded an answer. "What's going on? And did I hear right? Did she call you 'husband', Reid?"

Belle looked Morgan over from head to toe before giving Spencer a look of amusement. "Who's dis?"

"This is my friend and one of my coworkers, Derek Morgan. Morgan, this is Bella Donna Boudreaux, Remy's wife and, by extension and customs that are extremely complicated, my honorary wife as well." Spencer tried to explain. Though Remy had explained it, somewhat, Spencer didn't think now was the time to get into that. At a later time he would try to explain it all to Morgan.

Belle let out a husky laugh and grinned at Morgan. "Remy's m' husband and Spencer's his partner. By old laws and customs, and by de agreements we made, Spencer's m' husband as well. Maybe not by modern laws, but by laws older dan de modern ones. Now, husband, let me see our child."

Those two words, 'our child', told him he'd been right in what he thought she'd meant by claiming responsibility. Damn this town and its traditions and customs and laws that no outsider knew. Yet he wasn't an outsider anymore. By way of Remy and Belle, he was part of this extended family and all the drama and troubles that came with it. By their view, he couldn't claim lack of knowledge on these customs or laws because it was Belle and Remy's jobs to make sure he knew and understood. Though Remy was teaching him, he had by no means taught Spencer everything yet. There was still so much he had to learn. Because of that, Remy had been beyond worried when he found out Spencer was going to New Orleans on a case. He'd called Belle to make sure she would be looking out for him while he was down there, something that had rankled with Spencer but he hadn't protested it. Not that it would have done him any good.

It took gentle coaxing to get the girl to come around to at least his side. "Everything's okay now." He told her gently. "No one's going to hurt you."

"Petit, do y' know who I am?" Belle asked her gently. The little girl peeked out from Spencer and looked at her before nodding. Belle smiled at her. "Dat's _bon_, petit. Den y' know dat, when I say y'r safe, I mean it, _oui_?" This time the girl nodded a little quicker. "Now, why don't y' come and see me fo' a minute and we talk, _d'accord_? We'll talk about women t'ings dat de men here don't need to hear, yeah. Y' just come with me fo' a bit."

It amazed Spencer to see how easily the girl made the transfer to Belle's arms. The woman settled her easily on her hip as if it were natural for her. Like this, Spencer got a better look at the girl and he realized her skin had changed. Instead of the dark green, it was brighter now. Yes, the girl's physical mutation definitely was chameleon related, though judging by her size and his estimate of her age, her powers wouldn't have manifested yet. She was nowhere near puberty.

Seeing him looking at her, the girl bowed her head, lowering her eyes, and Spencer could feel the shame in her. He followed his heart, bringing a hand up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. "Don't hide your face, honey. You're a beautiful little girl." He brought that hand down, cupping her chin and tipping her head up so that she looked at him again. Then he smiled sweetly at her. "Don't be ashamed of who you are. Be proud of who you are. You're a very, very special little girl."

"_Oui_, y' are, petit." Belle reassured her. She pressed a kiss to the girl's temple. Then she looked up at Spencer and smiled. "Y' come and pick her up in two hours' time from Mattie's. I'll get her cleaned up and with some fresh clothes. On m' honor, on m' life, no harm will come to her. Y' go get y'rself cleaned up and go give husband a call." Leaning in, Belle gave Spencer a firm kiss. Then she pulled back and started to walk away. "_Je t'aime, mon mari_."

"_Je t'aime, ma femme._" Spencer called back automatically. When she was gone, he pinched the bridge of his nose to try and combat the headache. He opened his eyes to find Morgan staring at him, a look of utter confusion on his face. He let out a sigh and tried to smile at him. "Come on, Morgan. Let's get to the hotel. Once were there, I'll explain as best as I can. Then I need to call Remy and explain to him we've apparently adopted a child."


	4. Who We Used to Be

_"Amnesia Remy"_

_The first two sections have been sitting on my computer for at least a year. I just spell checked them and then added the rest to finish off this prompt :)_

* * *

Spencer was at work when a call came in to his private cell phone. He was sitting at his desk in the bullpen, working on his reports, when his pocket rang. He looked down at his pocket with surprise. The only time his cell phone rang was when it was the team or Remy. Any other calls he received always went to his home phone. But Remy never called him during the daytime. He always called in at night, to give him better odds of catching Spencer while he wasn't working.

When Spencer pulled the phone out, he didn't recognize the number. Brow furrowed, he flipped the phone open and put it up to his ear. "Dr. Reid."

_"__Hello, Dr. Reid."_ A warm, female voice answered. _"__I'm very sorry to disturb you. I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."_

Spencer sat back in his chair. "Not technically. How can I help you?" He saw the strange look he was getting from Emily and he shrugged, not quite sure himself what was going on. Then the woman spoke again and his full attention was on his phone. _"__I know you don't know me, but my name is Ororo. You and I share a mutual friend."_

Every inch of Spencer went on alert. He sat up straighter and his hand tightened on his phone. "I know who you are, Ms. Munroe." A thousand questions begged to be asked. But considering where he was, only one came out. "Is he okay?" Even that short question was enough to further arouse the curiosity of the people watching him. Emily and Derek both gave up the pretense of doing other things and they were openly watching him now. Spencer ignored them. Right now there was something much more pressing and much more important.

Ororo's answer came quickly. _"__He is alive and, so far as we can tell, uninjured."_ She reassured him. There was on time for him to feel relief before she continued. _"__However, something _is_wrong. We were visited by a group of his former associates. During that visit, something seems to have been done that we don't quite understand. Our friend seems to be stuck in his mind somewhere back in the time that you knew him, before he knew us."_

"Shit." The uncharacteristic curse slipped from Spencer.

_"__Our sentiments exactly. We've been forced to lock him in a room to prevent him from vanishing on us. Once, my brother gave me your name and number and told me that, if anything ever happened to him, you were the number to call. Right now, you are the only person I could think of that might be able to help him. He would recognize you and trust you. With that trust, we might be able to help him."_

There was no need for Spencer to even stop to think about it. He was already moving, closing the file on his desk and starting to put things away. "I'll be on the first flight out." He told her. Grabbing his messenger bag, he lifted it and put a few things inside. "I just need to speak to my boss to arrange the time off and then I'll head to the airport. I'll call you back to let you know my arrival time. Can you arrange to have someone pick me up from the airport?"

_"__I will do so myself. Thank you, Spencer. Thank you so very much."_

"Of course. I'll return your call shortly."

Spencer hung up his phone and rose to his feet. He was stuffing his phone into his bag when Derek called out "Reid? Is everything okay?"

"I don't know." Spencer answered honestly. He pulled the strap of his bag over his head and looked to his friends. He had to give them some kind of answer, even if he had to be careful about how he worded this. "A friend of mine is…he's sick and they're not quite sure what's wrong with him, but it's bad and I need to get out there."

"Go ahead, Reid." Another voice called. Spencer spun to find David standing on the upper walk, leaning on the bars and looking down at him. The senior profiler gestured towards Aaron's office, which Spencer saw was empty, and said "Hotch had a meeting with Erin. I'll let him know you've got an emergency. You take all the time you need, just check in and keep us informed."

Gratitude ran through Spencer. He clenched his hands on the strap of his bag and managed a weak smile. "Thanks, Rossi." He breathed out. He had no idea just how much his body language was screaming out his worry to his friends. All Spencer could focus on was getting out to New York and finding out what was going on with Remy. Even as he bid his friends goodbye and hurried over towards the elevator, Spencer's mind kept replaying the conversation with Ororo, running over everything again and again. It wasn't hard to figure out what her discreet words meant. Someone had attacked the mansion. Judging by the 'old associates' part, it had to be the Marauders, meaning that Sinister was most likely involved as well. If Remy didn't remember any of the X-Men, that had to mean that Sinister had messed with his mind somehow. Why would he make Remy forget his time with the X-Men, though? _To make him come back, obviously. If he doesn't remember working with the X-men, then he's probably at a time in his memories where he worked for Sinister. This is the man's latest ploy to bring Remy back to him._

Well, the hell if it was going to work. Spencer's spine firmed and determination filled him. He marched out of the elevator when it stopped and headed straight outside, hurrying to catch the bus. He had ridden it in to work today, thankfully. That meant he didn't have to worry about his car now. While he waited for the bus, he pulled out his phone and started making calls, arranging his flight out of here. He would go to Remy and he would do everything he could to help his friend. Sinister wasn't going to get Remy back; not now, not ever.

* * *

Four hours later, Spencer was impatiently making his way away from the baggage area. He wore his messenger bag and carried his travel-bag in hand, trying so hard not to let his irritation show. His travel had proved to be a bigger pain in the ass than he'd originally thought it would be. Upon arriving at the airport, he realized that he was still armed and he had to call up Derek to ask his friend to bring him a proper case for his weapon. Traveling without it never even crossed his mind. Too many things had happened to him and to other members of the team, even when they were on a vacation, for him to entertain the idea of being unarmed somewhere. Thankfully, Derek had hurried over, bringing him the proper case needed to lock away his firearm as well as a suitcase to transfer his stuff into so that he could check it all into checked baggage.

When he arrived here in New York, it took a bit for Spencer to get his baggage and to run through all the things necessary. But finally he had his bag back and his gun discreetly in his messenger bag and he could turn his attention to the important things. His eyes scanned the terminal, looking for the one person he needed, one that would stand out amongst the crowd. Sure enough, it didn't take him long to spot her. A beautiful woman with dark skin and white hair? Ororo was definitely not a woman to blend in to the crowds. She drew appreciative eyes from all over. Spencer spotted her and quickly slipped his way around people to rush over to her.

She smiled when he reached her. Much to his appreciation, she didn't offer her hand, though Remy had told him how touchy she was. He had no idea that Remy had once warned her how little Spencer liked being touched by people he didn't know, or how awkward he felt being touched even by people he _did _know. "Spencer. It is so very good to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you from Remy." She said warmly.

Manners bade Spencer be just as polite in return. It took a lot of effort for him to manage it when his mind was so full of worry. Still, his Mom had raised him to be respectful, especially to a woman, and he drummed up as much of a smile as he could. "The pleasure's all mine, Ms. Munroe. Remy speaks of you often, as well." That was the best that Spencer could manage. His smile faded and he couldn't hold in his question anymore. "How is he?"

"He is well. The same as before, but no worse." With one hand, Ororo gestured for him to follow her, leading him through the crowded terminal. "While his memory is still altered, he seems to be suffering nothing else. At least, as far as we can tell. He does not trust us, nor does he want us near him. He seems to believe that this is some sort of trap on our part. Physically, he won't let us close. Mentally, he's raised his shields up as high as possible and any attempt to touch them is quickly rebuffed."

"I bet." Spencer said wryly. He knew what Remy's shields could be like and just how nasty they could get.

Someone materialized out of the crowd on Ororo's other side, startling Spencer slightly. It was a young man with blond hair, who smiled brightly at Ororo, yet sounded serious as he said "Things are clear in here. Nothing so far."

"Good." Ororo murmured. She caught Spencer looking at them and she was smiling once more. She lifted a hand, tucking it into the crook of his elbow. Immediately he crooked his arm and straightened his posture, 'escorting' her. That only made her smile warm. "Do not worry, Spencer. We are simply taking precautions after today's…visit."

Ah. A logical plan. Part of Spencer relaxed now that he understood while the rest of him tensed in an entirely new way. Every bit of him went on alert. If he hadn't been so caught up in worry about Remy, he would've already thought of this. It was logical to assume that there'd could end up being trouble. "Very smart." Spencer murmured back to her. His eyes scanned the area as they stepped out of the terminal. He let Ororo lead him over towards the parking lot. It wasn't hard to figure out which vehicle was there for them. The person standing at the side of one SUV gave it away. Though Spencer didn't know him personally, he knew him through Remy and through the little information he'd gleaned on his own afterwards. Scott Summers, aka Cyclops. He was standing at attention beside the SUV, clearly watching around them for any trouble.

When they got close, Scott opened the door to the backseat, still watching around them. Spencer let Ororo bundle him inside without any fuss. He slipped into the backseat, her at his side, and watched as the door was shut and then Scott and the other man went to the front seats. Scott climbed in behind the wheel. In no time flat, the car was on its way out of the parking lot and down the road.

Ororo turned in her seat once they were out on the road. She reached out, putting her hand on Spencer's knee. "Thank you so much for coming, Spencer, and for following us out of there without asking any of the questions I'm sure you have. I know that a lot of this must not make much sense right now."

"Actually, it makes plenty of sense, ma'am." Spencer countered. "If I had been thinking clearly on the flight, I would've realized it all sooner. Bringing an escort to retrieve me was a smart plan. Let's just hope that no one realized who you were out to fetch. If we're lucky, they won't realize it until after I've arrived." He turned his body towards Ororo, judging her to be the best source of information right now. "I trust in you all to protect us. I'll leave that to you and your friends. What I'd like is if you could describe to me what exactly happened to Remy."

"We're not entirely sure." Ororo said. She turned as well, to better face him while she answered. "We were all in our own areas. We weren't alerted to any trouble until we all heard…we heard Remy scream." She stumbled over that part and pain flashed across her features. "When we reached the outside, we attacked as a group and separated the two. Logan picked up Remy and got him inside. He was unconscious for almost four hours with no obvious signs of physical trauma aside from a few bruises. When he woke, it was abrupt and he was on the instant defensive."

"He tried to fight his way out." The blond from the front threw in. He'd turned in his seat to watch them. "He almost blasted Logan out of the way. It took a good fifteen minutes for Logan to corner him enough for Hank to sedate him. Then we got him into a secure room."

Spencer's eyes went wide. "You sedated him?"

The only one out of the group to understand Spencer's reaction, Ororo reassuringly put her hand on his arm and squeezed. "Our doctor has a record of a sedative combination that he reacts well to, do not worry. He has used it before with no lasting effects."

Oh thank Goodness. Spencer relaxed slightly again. Remy didn't react to medications like most people and sedatives were more difficult for him than most. He either processed them too fast for them to do anything but make him sleepy, or they could have the complete opposite effect and hype him up, or they could slow his body to dangerous levels. Reactions like that were the main reasons that Remy essentially avoided any medication of any kind unless he absolutely had to. He tended to stick to a natural cure if he had to take something.

"He had just woken before we left to retrieve you." Ororo continued. "He was still in the same state of mind as he was before. Only, angrier now that he's being contained."

Scott scoffed, the first sound he'd made since they got in. "That's one way of putting it." He said sarcastically. There was just a hint of humor to his tone. "He turned the air blue with curses and then he started hitting on my wife at the same time as trying to convince us all to let him out of there. Then he just sort of, melted."

The choice of word surprised Spencer. "Melted?" Then it clicked in his head just what that had to mean. A smile curved his lips. "Oh. The boneless look, right? Relaxed, loose, and looking like he's almost asleep?"

Scott looked up in the mirror and flashed a grin at Spencer. "That's the one."

How many times had Spencer seen that look on his friend? More so, how many people had actually fallen for that look? It always amazed and amused Spencer that people really believed that Remy was as stupid and lazy as he could pretend to be. Spencer knew better. Remy was one of the smartest people that he'd ever met. It was just hidden down underneath and rarely let out to the surface for people to see.

Lost in thought, Spencer didn't notice that something had been said to him. Nor did he see Ororo wave a hand and gesture for him to be left alone. He settled back in his seat and turned his eyes to stare sightlessly out the window. As the miles passed by, he tried to think of every possibility of what could've happened to Remy and how he might be able to fix it. In reality, he knew he wouldn't be able to do anything until he actually got there and was able to truly assess the situation. There were just too many variables. But it didn't stop him from thinking, and it didn't stop him from worrying.

* * *

The rest of the ride was taken in silence. When they arrived, Spencer gathered his bags and took no prodding at all to follow Ororo inside. She offered to take him to Remy's room so that he could drop it off. He declined. Right at the moment, all he wanted was Remy. "I'd like to see him first, please."

"Of course, Spencer. This way."

The group took off down the hallway. Behind him, Spencer heard the blond murmur quietly to Scott, asking him "You sure it's safe to bring some stranger in like this? He's an old friend of Gambit, Scott. We don't know anything about him."

"Ro trusts him, and she's willing to vouch for him. That's enough for me." Scott returned, just as quietly.

Spencer mulled those words over as he followed Ororo into an elevator. The fact that this woman he'd never met was willing to trust him and vouch for him, based solely off of a friendship she'd only heard about secondhand from Remy, was both amazing and humbling. It said a lot for her love and respect for Remy. Because it wasn't just Remy's life she was trusting him with here; it was the lives and secrets of the rest of the household, too. He knew the elevator was taking him down into the lower levels of the mansion. The part that no one else was really supposed to know about. He could've told them that he already knew about it. Not just the layout, but the weaknesses in their security, the placement of every camera, and the best exits. All things that he didn't really care about, personally. They were just things that Remy had told him over the years. Things that Remy immediately set about learning in any place that he stayed at. Usually, he'd talk those things out with Spencer, just casually, and Spencer's memory logged the bits of information away simply because that was what his brain did with any knowledge he came across.

Once in the lower levels, he was led down another hallway, they made a right turn, and then down another. Spencer laid their directions on the mental map he had from things Remy had said and a nasty suspicion built. They had said they'd contained him somewhere. Could they really have put him _there_? No, no. Of course they wouldn't. Not one of their own. They wouldn't put one of their own members in a cell. Would they? _If he's acting violently and it's the only way to contain him, yes. Of course they would. It's the logical thing to do. It keeps him contained and safe. Can you fault them for that?_

His suspicions were confirmed only moments later when Ororo took him into a room that was very obviously a control room for the holding cells. Even understanding that the cells were the smart place to hold him, Spencer still felt irritated on his friend's behalf. It would be a hell these people obviously didn't understand for Remy to be locked away in there. The need to get to him was even more urgent now. Enough so that Spencer didn't even really focus on any of the other people in the room. His eyes lifted to the screens that were displaying Remy's cell and his whole attention went to his friend.

Seeing Remy lounging on the bed had Spencer sighing in relief. He was okay. Physically, he really was okay. He was stretched out flat on his back, one leg bent and the other one dangling off the edge. One arm was lifted so that his hand rested behind his head and his other hand was absently dancing a card from finger to finger.

A sudden voice startled Spencer out of his thoughts and brought his attention back to the room around him. "Hello, Spencer. It's a pleasure to meet you." Charles Xavier held his hand out to Spencer, and he spoke in a very formal voice. Spencer looked him over while lifting his hand and giving his usual little wave. He missed the surprised looks that got him. Charles didn't even miss a beat. He just folded his hands back into his lap and fixed Spencer with a steady stare. "I assume that Ororo has explained the situation to you in its entirety?"

"Yes, sir." Spencer nodded, eyes flashing up to the monitor again and then back to Charles.

"She believes that you are our best bet in helping our young friend." What exactly he felt about that, he didn't say, nor did his tone give any hint to. "I feel I must warn you before you go in there. Remy is…volatile. While she assures me that the two of you have known one another for quite a while, you should still prepare yourself. He is not the young man we've known these past few years. So far as we can tell, he is somewhere in his memories before he ever came to live at the mansion."

"I knew him for quite a while before he came here, sir. I'm sure we'll be fine." Enough of this jabbering. Spencer chewed on his lip and looked back up to the monitor. Remy was lazily tossing his card up now and catching it again, over and over. The need to be in there grew even stronger. Spencer looked back at Charles. "May I go in there now, please?"

Charles watched him for just a second longer, something passing over his eyes. Then his expression cleared and he nodded. "Please. If you can help him, we would all appreciate it."

Eagerly, Spencer dropped his suitcase against the wall, though he kept his messenger bag on. It was Ororo who led him from the room. Spencer followed her, but he stopped at the doorway. After a quick debate, he turned and looked at the room again, a shy half-smile quirking his lips. "I don't suppose I could persuade you all not to watch this, could I?" At the head shake from Charles, he sighed and his cheeks heated just a little. "Of course not. Well, then, at the least I would implore you not to interfere, or to take anything you see seriously. No matter what you see, just stay back. I promise you that Remy, in any state of mind, will never seriously harm me."

As he left the room, Logan grinned and said. "Something tells me this is going to be _really_ interesting."

Out in the hallway, Spencer waited as Ororo input the code to the holding cell. When it beeped, she smiled at him and wished him "Good luck." He smiled back his thanks, took a deep breath, and then he pulled the door open and was stepping inside, letting the door slide shut behind him.

* * *

He knew that Remy noticed him instantly. However, the Cajun said nothing at first, simply lying there as the door clicked shut. He tossed his card again and caught it once more. This time, the card vanished with a small flourish of his hand. Just a hint of his eyes flashed over top his sunglasses and a devilish grin curved his lips. "Well, well, well. What kinda trick is dis now, hm?" Remy tipped his head and looked up to the corner where the camera was at. "Aint y' de naughty one, Professor. Y' tryin' to pull off some trick on po' Gambit. Y'r gon' have t' do better'n dat, _monsieur_. Gambit knows he aint real. Y'all wouldn't never let a Fed in y'r lil hidey hole here."

Spencer shifted his feet and hooked his hands into his pockets. "I'm not real? That's news to me." He looked down at himself and then back up at Remy. "How exactly do you think they're faking my image?"

"Who knows?" Remy said archly. He rolled his head toward Spencer. "A hologram, a shapeshifter, or maybe y'r just in m' head, eh Professor?"

"Don't be absurd." Spencer rolled his eyes. "If the Professor was in your head, you would know it. I'm not a shapeshifter, though I imagine that that's what I would say if I were one, so I have no real argument to offer there. Though, the only shapeshifter I know is Mystique, and do you really picture them bringing her in here just to torment you? As for the hologram, well, that's easy enough to disprove."

"True dat, _mon ami_." In one fluid move, Remy went from lying on the bed to standing beside it, moving so fast that Spencer barely had a chance to blink. A second later Remy was walking towards him. No, not walking. It was too sensual and too predatory a move to be considered simply walking. He was _stalking_ forward with that combination of sex and danger he had once oozed almost constantly. As it always had, it dried up the spit in Spencer's mouth and had his heart thudding just a little faster. But he stayed in place as Remy closed the distance between them. He stopped just inches in front of Spencer. Lifting his hands, he placed them on either side of Spencer's head and he leaned in, smirking when Spencer swallowed audibly. "Why don't we go on an disprove dat theory now, eh cher?" He leaned a little closer, their lips just a breath apart.

Spencer didn't fight the move. He didn't try to get away from Remy or stop what he was doing. Instead, he stared straight into the sunglasses as if he'd be able to see right through them. Indeed, he almost could, this close. He caught a hint of the red flashing behind them. "What're you waiting for?" he murmured, his voice gone just slightly husky. "I've never denied you before. I'm not going to now."

"Mmm. Whoever made y' got dat part of t'ings right." Remy purred as he brushed their lips together. He nipped at Spencer's bottom lip, chuckling when he got a soft gasp. His tongue flicked out to soothe over the same spot. "Y' sure taste like m' Spencer." He pressed his body in closer, pinning Spencer up against the wall. "Y' feel like him, too. Even if y' do look older."

When Remy rolled his hips ever so slightly, grinding their bodies together, Spencer gave a low moan. Unconsciously he lifted his hands and sat them on Remy's hips, hooking his belt loops and holding on. He licked his lips and blinked eyes that felt slightly heavy. "You know, there's an easy way to fix this."

"Mm. An what's dat?"

"If you lowered your shields just slightly, you'd _feel_ it was me."

Remy chuckled lowly and nipped at his lip again. "Right, cher. Just go on an lower m' shields in a house of spooks." He lifted one hand from the wall and brought it to Spencer's face. His fingers traced down Spencer's cheek, over his jawline, and then down to circle his throat. "Y' must t'ink ol' Gambit's real stupid, hehn?"

The hand on his throat gave a careful squeeze. Spencer didn't flinch and didn't try to pull away. He kept his gaze steady on Remy. "You never did like taking the easy way."

"Aint as much fun."

"How am I supposed to convince you, then? And keep in mind…" Spencer lifted his left hand and pointed towards the camera. "We're being watched."

Remy tipped his head just enough that Spencer could see the wink he gave. "Sounds kinky."

"Not mine."

"_Je sais_." Pulling back ever so slightly, Remy let go of Spencer's throat, putting his hand once more on the wall beside Spencer's head. He bit his lip as he looked the man over from head to toe. Some of the mockery had faded from his look. Spencer could see that a part of Remy was finally starting to believe it really was him. The Cajun reached up and took his sunglasses off so that he could stare right into Spencer's eyes. The look in them was deadly serious, at complete odds with the sensuality of his posture and the smirk on his lips. "Tell Gambit somet'in'. Somet'in' dat dey'd never t'ink to ask y'."

The request wasn't anything that surprised Spencer. He'd thought about this and planned for it. It had to be something that was private, a moment between just the two of them, and something that he never would've shared with anyone. But it also had to be something that he didn't mind his audience hearing. That had taken a bit of careful planning. He thought he had just the thing, though. All it would take was some careful wording so that maybe the others wouldn't understand as much while still clear enough for Remy to understand. First, though, he had to know something important. "Where you're at in your mind, how old am I to you? I need to make sure I give you something that you'll actually remember."

"Twenty two." Remy said carefully.

Perfect. Spencer knew just the thing to say and he didn't even have to censor it. He let go of Remy's hip with his right hand and he reached up, brushing some of Remy's hair behind his ear. He stroked his fingers over the earring that looped over the top of that ear, sparkling slightly with the small ruby that was there. For a second he let himself just play with it as he'd done countless times before. "I gave you this." The corners of his mouth tugged up with a reminiscent smile. "It was so pretty. One of the only times I've bought something simply because it was pretty. But I found it in a store in DC, right after I graduated the academy, and the little stone made me think of your eyes. I've always loved your eyes. So I bought it and I held on to it until you came to see me again, just a month later. I gave it to you with a promise." Spencer let go of the earring and cupped Remy's face, bringing their eyes together once more. "No matter where I go, no matter what I'm doing, all you ever have to do is call and I'll be there. You and Mom are the single most important people in my life. Nothing and no one is more important than the two of you. That's part of the promise I gave you with this earring. You've never taken it off since then."

It was there in Remy's eyes; he believed him. Not completely. A small part was still hesitant. But he believed him enough that he took what was, in his mind, a huge risk.

Spencer felt Remy's charm reach out for him and he opened his shields to the familiar touch and offered up his emotions. He heard Remy's gasp, felt the shock course through him like a jolt, and then Spencer was being gently gathered up in a pair of arms that he had always been able to count on to hold him up. His Cajun's posture was still a pose, one that was there for the people outside the room to see, but the emotions that coursed from him to Spencer and back again were strong and pure. Spencer felt the sensation of Remy increase in his mind, paired with a twist of emotions that made a request Spencer knew well. He opened up the rest of his shields just enough to wrap them around Remy, bringing them in their own private, shielded mental bubble. Then he reached out with his mind voice. _/I told you it was me/_

_/Had to be sure, me/_ Came Remy's reply. _/Be just like M. Essex t' fuck wi' m' head dis way. Create all dis, jus' to fuck wi' me/_

The accent was thicker, even in his mind voice, and that told Spencer just what kind of place his friend was in. He slipped his arms around Remy's waist and held him just as close as he was being held. _/Well, it's me. I'm here, Rem/_

_/What happened?/_

Quickly Spencer closed his eyes and ran through the events for Remy. Conversations go much faster mind to mind than out loud. It took just a moment for him to explain everything and for Remy to process it. When he was done, the man was furious. His mind voice was tinted in hues of red, both dark and bright. Anger and pain. _/He fucked wi' m' head. Merde!/_

Spencer sent love and used it to soothe down the anger he felt. _/That's why I'm here. Your friends called me to help you/_ He paused and let his amusement color his next words, hoping to draw some humor from Remy. _/Though I don't think they realize what kind of help I'll give. I think they assumed I'd get you to trust them enough to let one of the telepath's here help you/_

That earned him a snort from Remy. _/Yeah, right. Aint dat stupid, me/_ He leaned in, bending his head so that he could nuzzle against Spencer's jawline and down under his ear. Still keeping Spencer in his arms, he twisted their bodies, rolling them so that they ended with Remy's back against the wall. He nudged at Spencer's arms until they came up to circle his neck. That left room for Remy's hands to curl over Spencer's hips and pull him in close, moving him so that Spencer was straddling his thigh. The pose was so blatantly sexual that Spencer couldn't help how deeply he blushed. But he didn't move. He stayed there, even turning his face in just a little until his and Remy's cheeks pressed against each other. Remy hummed his approval and his body relaxed just a little more. He rubbed his cheek over Spencer's, practically purring. _/Aint lettin' none of dem in. Don't trust dem like I do y'. Y' always set me on straight. I take it dey don't know y'r a path?/_

That made Spencer smile. He wondered if the people watching had figured it out by now. They hadn't known before, so far as he knew, but they had to now .What would they think about finding out he was a path? A _dual_ path? Telepath's weren't exactly rare, as was proven by the amount of them in this house alone. But a telepath who was also an extremely strong empath, that _was_ rare. Their shock would probably grow once they realized that, not only was he a mutant, he was a mutant _FBI agent_. He just hoped he'd be able to convince them all about the importance of keeping it a secret. If the wrong person found out, the trouble it could cause him would be immense. For no one else but Remy would he have taken this kind of risk. But for Remy, it was more than worth it. _/From my understanding, they don't know anything about me but my first name. You gave that and my number to Ororo in case of emergencies, with the request to call me if anything serious ever happened. I don't think they even knew I was a Fed until you said it a bit ago. They probably wouldn't have let me in the lower levels of the house if they'd known. Not that that would've stopped me. I still would've found my way down here. You told me the layout and such to this place when you first moved in/_

Humor filled Remy's mind with tints of yellow. _/I bet I did. Gotta make sure y' always know how to reach me, _non_?/_ A tendril of worry snaked through him. _/Y' know how to get us outta here, cher? De door locked behind y' when y' came in/_

Spencer curled his fingers through Remy's hair, toying idly with the loose strands. _/They'll let us out when I ask, don't worry. I don't know the X-Men well enough to know how they'll all react to things, but I do know from you that there are a few here that you trust implicitly and I saw a few of them out there. They'll make sure we're not locked in here/_

_/Can we get out, den? I can't relax in here, cher. I wanna go get comfortable and get dis fixed and we can't do dat here in dis cell/_

There was no way that Remy would relax enough to lower his shields here in the cells. He'd lowered the outer layer, yes, but that only allowed their emotions to travel back and forth and for them to converse with mind speech. Everything else in his mind was still protected by the rest of his shielding. It was a risk to open that first layer, which was why he'd been so hesitant to do it. A strong telepath could battle against the rest of his shields and, though they might not get in, they could cause serious damage, both to Remy and to themselves. Spencer knew because he'd been the one to help Remy get his shields to this strength and he'd been the one to help him set up the traps in there to keep him safe. That was part of what really worried Spencer now. What had Sinister done that he'd been able to get past all that to do this kind of damage? Or, had he been trying to do something else but because the shields had fought back, they'd changed what he'd intended on doing? There were so many questions that had to be answered. The sooner they could get somewhere safe and private, the better.

Well, there was one easy way to do this. Spencer sighed and laid his head down on Remy's shoulder. Then he reached out with his mind until he found just what he was looking for. He didn't reach to Charles, not quite sure he wanted to touch the telepath after some of the things he'd heard from Remy. Instead, he reached to one that he knew Remy trusted and who probably wouldn't freak out too much at the mind touch.

A moment later he smiled against Remy's neck. "They'll be here to let us out momentarily."

"_Merci Dieu._"

Because he was still drawing his own shields back up, Spencer was open just enough to catch a stray thought that was broadcast with a wave of anger and jealousy. It only took him a quick look to realize where it came from and that the person it came from was getting closer. His body tensed before he quickly started to try and pull away. Of course, Remy's arms just tightened around him, holding him in place. "What is it?" Remy asked sharply. His body was braced, ready to move in an instant, and he was already curving to try and slip himself between Spencer and the door.

The young genius didn't give up on tugging, though he knew it was useless. Remy wouldn't let go until he was damn good and ready. Spencer pushed against his chest. "You need to let go of me, Remy. Now."

"Why?"

The door to their room was yanked open and Spencer got a clear view of a furious and beautiful woman, who clearly demanded "What the hell is goin' on in here?" before he found his view obstructed by Remy's body. The Cajun had whipped them around, quick as could be, and Spencer was pressed back into the corner of the room with Remy in front of him, hands held out at the ready. He would've reached for his cards already if Spencer hadn't tried to restrain him. "No, Remy!"

The woman that Spencer knew had to be Rogue was sneering furiously at them. She made a big mistake, taking a single step into the room. Spencer just barely managed to catch Remy's wrist when the man reached for a card. He held on tightly and once more said "_No_!" He wrapped his other arm around Remy's waist and lifted his hand to press flat against his heart. "Remy, stop. She's not a threat. She's your girlfriend!"

Those words were enough to momentarily stun Remy. He stopped trying to pull his wrist free. "_Quoi_?"

"Damn straight ah am!" Rogue snapped. "So get your damn hands off mah man, before ah do it for yah!"

That was the wrong route to take. Remy matched her glare for glare and his voice turned hard and cold. "Y' watch y'r mouth when y' talk to him, _femme_, or Remy gonna watch it f' y'. Don't no one talk to Spencer dat way."

They were saved any further drama when someone called out Rogue's name. Others were suddenly slipping into the room. Spencer paired up who he saw with memories of what Remy had told him and he figured out who each person was. The woman who was drawing Rogue back had to be Jean Grey. The guys that stood between them were very Scott and Logan. Outside the room, once Rogue and Jean were out of the door and Spencer could see again, were Charles Xavier and Hank McCoy. There were others, Spencer could sense, but they weren't really important at the moment. What was important was the furious man in front of him. Spencer knew that Remy's need to defend had been triggered and he wasn't going to just back down now. Not with the place his head was at. At that time, defending and protecting Spencer had been one hell of a strong urge for him.

Before things could grow any worse, and before Remy managed to piss off anyone else, Spencer took matters into his own hands. He used Remy's distraction towards the two men watching them and he quickly slipped out from behind him. Of course Remy quickly grabbed him and tried to yank him back. Spencer had been prepared for that, though. He planted his feet firmly and met Remy's furious look with his own firm stare. "No, Remy. I told you, they're not a threat. These people are your _friends_. They're here to help you! They're no threat towards me. Right, gentlemen?" He directed the last part to the others, looking back over his shoulder at them.

Scott looked just a little amused by this whole situation. Though he looked serious, there was a hint of amusement around the edges. "Absolutely. You're both safe here." He reassured them.

Logan nodded his agreement, adding on "We aint after yer boy, Gumbo."

"_Bien._ Y' let us outta here, den?" Remy shot back. His body was still tensed, ready for anything. He most likely wouldn't relax until they were out of the room. In here, it would be too hard for him to fight _and_ defend Spencer. Their escape was blocked not only by the two in the room but by the others that were still standing outside the room.

The tension visibly lessened when they all made their way out of the cell. Remy kept Spencer close and he kept himself between Spencer and the others. The urge to sigh rose up again in Spencer. What was it about Remy that just inspired that reaction in him? The thought was pushed back so that he could focus on more important things, like getting Remy to stop glaring everyone to death. He and Spencer stood off to one side of the room while a group of people were on the other side. Still open the way they were, information passed easily from Remy to Spencer, giving him the names of the people. Charles, Scott, Jean, Logan, Rogue, Ororo, Bobby, Bishop, and Hank. One hell of a crowd for this. Either they were all nosey, or they were really concerned about what Remy might do and they wanted to be prepared for it. Either way, there was no way in hell he was going to get Remy to relax in a group like this. Inside, Remy was prepared for anything. On the outside, he was standing with one leg bent, his hip cocked to the side, and his thumbs hooked into his back pockets. A little smirk curved his lips, blatantly insolent and obviously daring anyone to say anything about it.

Spencer rolled his eyes. He put a calming hand on Remy's shoulder, mentally warning him _/Would you relax a little? I know you know how to be nice and charming. Try employing some of that now/_

_/Against dem?/_ Remy sounded shocked by the idea. _/Why de hell would I do dat? Dey locked me in de damn cells!/_

_/Only because you tried to leave and they feared what might happen to you if you left like this. Especially with Sinister having been the one to attack you. They weren't going to let you go out there and potentially walk right to him, or be too out of it that you ended up captured. Now, be good! Your temper is only going to make an already hard situation even harder. I need them to be relaxed enough to actually let me take you out of this area. Pissing them off isn't going to accomplish that/_

There was a sharp edge to Spencer's mind voice that wasn't typically there unless he was extremely angry, tired, or in pain. Remy knew Spencer well enough to know that he wasn't tired, so it had to be one of the other two. That was enough to have him quickly changing his tune. His stance and expression both lost their insolent edge. He actually swept one hand in front and one behind him and gave the room an elaborate bow. "_Désolé_ f' all dat. Aint every day a person wakes up in a strange place dey didn't know dey was supposed to be in. _Merci_ f' callin' in Spencer f' Gambit."

"It's quite all right, my boy." Charles reassured him. His voice was just as polite as Remy's had been. "Why don't we take this somewhere a little more comfortable before we start talking?"

The blond from the car looked back to Remy and then over Spencer. "Is that a good idea?" he asked.

Spencer smiled at him. "Don't worry, he's not going to bolt when we get up there."

"How can you be so sure?"

Resisting the urge to glare at the man, who didn't know him and therefore couldn't be expected to understand, Spencer carefully drew in a breath and kept his smile on his face. "Because I'm not going to run and he won't leave me behind." He said simply.

In total contrast to Spencer's politeness, Remy snorted. "Course not." The Cajun said firmly. Though he couldn't see, Spencer just knew the man was rolling his eyes when he said that. Then Remy was moving and Spencer knew this was deliberate, a way to rile up Spencer and the others as well. Remy turned and slid up against Spencer's side, one arm going around his waist in a half hug that he then used to tug Spencer in front of him, allowing him to wrap his arms around Spencer from behind. Some might think that he was putting Spencer in a vulnerable position here in a room of people he still considered a threat but Spencer knew better. Remy had proved more than once in their past that he was perfectly capable of defending Spencer while keeping him in the circle of his arms. All he needed was room to throw his cards, after all.

Resting his chin on Spencer's shoulder, the man leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Y'r a troublemaker, Spencer. If Gambit left y' here, it'd be jus' y'r luck to end up in some kinda shit. Den Gambit would have to come back anyways t' save y'r delectable ass."

It was Spencer's turn to roll his eyes. "Shove it, Remy."

"Afterwards, _non_?"

The sly remark brought a few snickers from people around them. Logan grinned around the end of his cigar. "Good to see some things aint changed. Ya still flirt as easy as breathin'."

Remy pulled Spencer in a little closer and deliberately stroked his hand over Spencer's stomach. "When it's m' Spencer? _Mais oui, _M. Wolverine. De day Gambit stops flirtin' wit' Spencer is de day one of us is dead."

"As enlightening as this all is, might I suggest we adjourn to my office?" Charles interrupted.

The walk upstairs was a quiet one. Remy kept himself pressed partially up against Spencer, though he made sure to keep one side of himself free at all times just in case he needed to fight or defend. No one said anything until they were all inside of a fancy looking office and the door was shut. Only then did the group once more turn their full attention back to Remy and Spencer. Remy ignored their attention for a moment as he strolled around the room, looking at everything as he passed. "Nice place y' got here, _monsieur_."

Spencer shook his head. He could see the way Remy was eying everything and he knew the others could too. The Cajun wasn't even bothering to hide his appreciation of the expensive items. Spencer hooked his hands in his pockets and watched Remy stroke a finger across the bottom of a picture that was hanging on the wall. "Are you quite done yet, Remy? Or would you like a little longer to drool over the contents of the room?"

A quick grin was flashed over Remy's shoulder. "Jealous, _mon ami_? Don't worry, y'll get y'r turn soon enough."

"I don't need to drool over any of the items in here."

"Dat aint what Gambit meant." He bit his lip and managed to leer, even with his sunglasses on.

Spencer stared for a second before flushing. _Oh_. Remy had meant that he'd drool over him, not that Spencer could have a chance to drool over the room. His blush deepened a little when Remy let out a husky chuckle. The man abandoned his tour of the room to saunter back towards Spencer. "Love dat color in y'r cheeks." He lifted one finger and trailed it down Spencer's cheek, down his neck, stopping at the top of his shirt. "Love makin' y' flush all over like dat. Y' look so _beau_ wit' dat rose in y'r skin."

It took two tries for Spencer to clear his throat enough to speak properly. "Are you done trying to shock everyone? I think they all realize after that show back in the cell that we've been lovers."

Remy dropped his hand and pouted at him. "_Dieu, _y'r a spoilsport. T'ought y' knew how to have a good time. Y' still know what dat is, _oui_? Or did t'ings change dat much?"

Though he knew that Remy didn't mean the words maliciously, they still struck Spencer sharper than his friend intended. He tried to cover it up by clearing his throat and averting his eyes. "Yes, well, why don't we get this conversation started? I imagine everyone's had a long day and they'd rather like to get this taken care of."

"Indeed." Charles agreed. "Why don't we all take a seat? There may be quite a bit to discuss here, I think."

Spencer moved towards the couch at his right, intending on slipping down and relaxing just a little. Remy caught his arm before he could take more than a step. He turned to look back at him and found that Remy had lost his mask and was looking at him with honest apology on his face. "_Désolé, _Spencer. Wasn't m' intention to hurt y' wi' dat. Was just teasin, me."

"I know." Spencer summoned up a smile. He reached over and patted the hand still holding his arm. "It's fine, Remy."

"Not if it makes y' sad like dat."

The words were pure Remy. They were enough to make Spencer's smile more honest. "I'm fine. I promise, I'll explain later, okay?"

"_D'accord._"

That settled, the two moved to the couch. Spencer wasn't surprised when Remy tucked him into the corner furthest from everyone. He did it casually, so much so that it probably wouldn't have been noticed in a normal setting. However, in this setting, everyone in the room noticed. They were all watching what was going on very carefully. Everything between the two was being closely observed and analyzed. None of them missed that Spencer was tucked as far away from them as possible, or that Remy set himself up between Spencer and the room. There was no doubt that he was placing himself in a defensible position. There was no one at their backs and they had easy access to a window for a quick exit if need be. Once, they had moved like this all the time, and Spencer had been quite used to it. It was habit. Now, he was surprised at how easily he slipped back into that role.

Scott and Jean took the other couch while Logan perched on a chair. The blond haired kid took another chair and Ororo leaned against the desk close to the Professor's side. When they were all settled in, Charles folded his hands down in his lap and took control of the room. "First off, I'd like to take the time to make some proper introductions." He looked to Spencer for this part. "My name is Charles Xavier, and these are my students. This is Scott, Jean, Logan, Bobby, and you already know Ororo, it would seem."

Most of those names, Spencer already knew, but it was nice to have a name for the blond haired one. Still, Spencer had a feeling that the introductions had mostly been done as a way to get him to introduce himself. He could see the way everyone was looking at him and he knew what it was that had to have caught their attention. They'd probably heard Remy back in his cell when he called Spencer a Fed. Well, time to see just how interesting this was going to get. "It's a pleasure to meet you, all of you. I've heard plenty about you over the years. My apologies for my own lack of manners before. I was more concerned with getting to Remy than with being polite. I'm SSA Dr. Spencer Reid." Rarely ever did he add the 'SSA' to his name when he introduced himself. But by doing it now, it neatly put that right out in the open.

The blond haired kid, Bobby, leaned forward on his chair to better look at Spencer. "So you really are a Fed?"

"Yes. I work as a profiler at the BAU."

That seemed to shock and/or amuse most of the room. Scott seemed to be the most amused of all. He was watching Remy with a small smirk curving his lips. "You're best friends with a Fed? _You_?"

"_Oui_." Remy said it without an ounce of shame. "Wasn't a fed when we first met, mind y'. _Mais_ he just graduated de academy…or, well…" He cocked his head towards Spencer. "Imagine it's been a few years since den f' y'."

"A few." Spencer said vaguely.

Charles raised a hand, silencing the group. "I think more explanations and questions can wait. Remy, if you'll lie down and get comfortable, we can see about trying to repair whatever damage Sinister has done."

That got Remy's attention, fast. His emotions sharpened even as his body seemed to relax even more. He let out a low, husky laugh. "Oh, y'r funny, M." He shook his head, still chuckling. "Gambit aint lettin' in his head. He's crazy, but he aint _dat_ crazy."

"It is the only way to try to view and repair whatever Sinister has done, Remy." Charles spoke calmly, not the least bit perturbed by Remy's words. He looked as if he'd expected them.

"Aint dat what y'all brought Spencer here f'?" Remy gestured lazily towards Spencer. "Once we're both comfortable and rested, he'll get t' lookin' at t'ings. Aint de first time he's straightened out dis boy's head." He turned enough to give Spencer a smile with much more warmth than he'd showed the others. Spencer found he could only shake his head and smile back. Despite the situation, despite the trouble it would take to put Remy's head together—and there were no guarantees, not with situations like this—he still felt a happiness inside of him. Because maybe this wasn't the Remy that the others knew, but it _was_ the Remy that Spencer knew, the one he'd been before his years with the X-Men had changed him. Before he'd joined here, before Rogue, before Antarctica, before the crap in both their lives had forced them to drift in ways they'd promised to never let happen .This was _his_ Remy. The one he had always loved and who had loved him back just as wholeheartedly. Spencer basked in it while he could. Soon enough he'd try and put his friend back together and this ferocity that he saw in him now would once more be smothered underneath so many different things. But until then, Spencer drew in Remy's presence, absorbing the emotions from him to hold in that quiet place in his heart that always missed the friendship they'd once had.


	5. Sweet

_Prompt: College AU, Spencer-is-a-Summers_

_Warnings for bad flirting, blushing shy boys, and fluffiness_

_NO MUTANTS. This is AU_

* * *

Some days Spencer hated brothers. It had been one thing to have them when he'd been living with his mother and only really getting to see them for visits here and there and over summer vacation. He'd loved having them then; had even wished to see them more!

He'd had no idea what he was wishing for.

Brothers were a giant pain in the ass and _living_ with two of them, both of them older than him, was its own form of torture. He hadn't really had a choice before, though. When Spencer had started college at just shy of fourteen, he wasn't allowed to live on his own and Caltech didn't house minors in their dorms, so he'd had to move in with his two half-brothers who, luckily for him, lived not too far from his college. Spencer lived with them during the school year and went home to see his mother for holidays and for the occasional weekend that he could get away. When they'd first started this arrangement, he'd thought it would be great. Now that he was nineteen, he was seriously thinking of looking into getting his own place at some point before he committed fratricide. Not that any jury would be able to blame them. He'd just have them spend even just a few hours with Alex after that third cup of coffee. He'd get off on a self-defense plea for sure.

Spencer scowled furiously and looked through the windshield of the car towards the house where Alex was _still_ at. If the man didn't hurry up, they weren't going to have time to stop off for coffee, and if Spencer didn't get coffee before starting classes today, someone was going to pay for it. Most likely Alex. Preferably in as painful a way as possible.

Leaning over, he slammed the palm of his hand down on the car horn and let the blare fill the air for a long beat.

The door opened seconds after he let go of the horn. Spencer watched with a small sense of satisfaction as Alex glared while hurrying out towards the car. He waited until his brother was finally climbing in behind the wheel and met him glare for glare. "About time you got out here, Alexander."

"Untwist your panties, pidge." Alex shut his door and snapped his seatbelt into place. He looked at Spencer and then shook his head before pulling out his keys and slipping them into the ignition. "What's got you wound so tight?"

"I spent most of my night studying, I have a paper due by Friday that I have nowhere near finished, and once again you forgot to go shopping so our house is out of coffee." Spencer spat out, stress, exhaustion and lack of caffeine loosening up the usually quiet and kind man. "To add to that, I had to sit out here in the car and wait while you grabbed 'just one last thing' that somehow took almost fifteen minutes, though if you'd just give me the keys I could've easily driven myself to and from school today without any trouble whatsoever."

"But then I'd miss out on our wonderful morning conversations." Alex said in a mock-loving voice.

Spencer huffed and slumped down a little more in his seat. On a regular morning, he would've been happy to banter and chat with Alex. This really was one of his favorite times of day. He liked the time they shared together when they got their morning coffee and it was just the two of them. He also didn't typically mind that Alex drove him. If he was honest, he wasn't a big fan of driving. Back home in Vegas he'd been happy to take public transportation everywhere.

They'd been driving for about fifteen minutes when Spencer noticed something a little different about the route they were taking. He sat up in his seat and looked around with confusion. When they passed by a street he knew they should've turned down, he finally twisted in his seat to look at his brother and point back over his shoulder. "Where are you going? The coffee shop is that way!"

Alex shook his head and turned the car in the opposite direction. "I found this new place and thought we could give it a try. It's not out of the way or anything, an I hear they got great coffee."

For a moment Spencer eyed his brother suspiciously. Then realization hit and he had to roll his eyes. "You slept with that barista, didn't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." The sharp grin that flashed briefly across his face put lie to those innocent words. Seeing the incredulous look that Spencer was giving him, Alex gave in with an easy laugh. "Okay, yeah, yeah. But she came on to me, man! What was I supposed to do? Tell her no?"

"Yes." Spencer snapped. He closed his eyes and pinched at the bridge of his nose to try and combat the already building headache. "I warned you, Alex. She has a history of being a little…"

"Bat-shit insane?"

Spencer snorted. "Possessive." He corrected. Though Alex's description was pretty accurate judging by the things Spencer had heard.

Making another turn, Alex snuck a glance over at his little brother. "I still wanna know how _you_ of all people know something like that. You're not a gossip and you're usually blind to, well, people in general."

"I am not!"

"You totally are. You didn't even realize that Melinda was hitting on you and she'd put on a shirt so low I could see her nipples and she was practically shoving them in your face."

The memory of that had Spencer flushing hotly. The worst part was, he couldn't even deny it. He hadn't realized at all that Melinda had been trying to hit on him. Honestly, he'd mostly been trying to ignore her. It had taken Scott coming over and rescuing him to get him the hell out of that uncomfortable situation. Afterwards, Scott had been the one to explain to Spencer that she'd been trying to hit on him for quite a while, getting a little more brazen with each attempt. Remembering his embarrassment, Spencer slouched down a little lower in his seat. "Shut up."

A grin stretched Alex's lips. "My innocent little baby brother." He teased, reaching out and ruffling Spencer's hair. He only laughed at the scowl that Spencer gave him, and he easily dodged the smack sent his way.

Only a few minutes later they were pulling up outside of a bakery that looked just a bit crowded. Spencer quickly climbed out of the car, scowl still firmly fixed in place, and it only deepened when Alex came around the car and slung an arm around his shoulders, tugging him towards the door. "Come on, pidge. Let's go see if their coffee is as good as I hear. Maybe, if we're lucky, it'll be good enough to wipe that scowl off your face."

"Bite yourself." Spencer snapped. He'd trained himself out of saying 'bite me' years ago because Alex, childish idiot that he was, had no qualms whatsoever about actually biting the person who said that to him.

The smell of baked goods and coffee hit them the minute Alex opened up the bakery's front door. Spencer drew in a deep breath and gave a happy little moan. It smelled heavenly in here. Absolutely heavenly. Some of Spencer's temper faded away at the delicious scent and the promise of getting his caffeine fix. He fell into line with Alex and took the time while they were waiting to look around him. The place wasn't large, but it was well put together, giving off a comfortable and relaxed feel. This wasn't some yuppie place like a lot of stores here in the city were. The space was set up invitingly and the scents were tantalizing. Over by one wall, Spencer could see a few booths as well as a section with, of all things, wing-backed chairs and some coffee tables, and Spencer could see himself curling up back there with a good book while he drank some coffee. Through the sounds of low conversation around them, there was a hint of music in the air, just faint sounds that only helped to set the mood even more.

"This place seems really nice." Spencer murmured without any of his previous surliness.

Alex was looking around too and he gave an agreeable nod. "If their coffee lives up to reputation, we might have to officially switch places, pidge."

The only answer Spencer gave to that was a low hum. He didn't really pay any attention as the people in front of them finished placing their order. All he wanted was his coffee. The night had been a long one and his body was more than willing to make an attempt at falling asleep standing up. He came pretty close, too. It didn't even really register with him that it was their turn to order until Alex elbowed him sharply and he jerked his head up to glare at his brother. "What?"

Alex grinned broadly and gestured with one hand to the register in front of him. "It's your turn to order."

Oh. Spencer felt himself blushing even as he turned towards the register. He opened his mouth to place his order as he turned around and promptly lost the ability to say a single word when he saw the man standing behind the register. The very first thing he noticed was the most gorgeous pair of dark green eyes he'd ever seen, framed by loose strands of slightly long auburn hair. It was the eyes, though, that held him. Heavy lidded, with thick lashes, and a bright spark of humor, like he knew some joke that you just weren't in on. That humor was echoed in the smirk over lips Spencer absently thought he could spend hours nibbling on—and promptly blushed at that thought. That only made that smirk grow wider and that shouldn't be that damn attractive. But pretty much everything about the guy was. He was tall, just slightly taller than Spencer, with a lean yet muscled build that he couldn't hide even in the simple jeans and the AC/DC shirt he wore.

"See somet'ing y' like?" The man—a look at the nametag on his shirt labeled him as Remy—asked him in a voice thick with the sounds of the south. His question only made Spencer blush deeper, which in turn made Remy chuckle lowly. The humor in his eyes grew. "On de menu, of course." He teased.

Oh, Lord, was this guy _flirting with him_? Spencer dropped his gaze a little and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. He wasn't good at flirting on a regular day. Attempting to do it without any coffee in his system and running on little sleep? That was a recipe for disaster! He bit at his bottom lip and snuck a look up at the still smirking man. "W-White chocolate mocha, triple shot." He managed to say it with only a small stammer, so that was a plus.

Either oblivious to his brother's discomfort, or enjoying it—it was really hard to tell with Alex sometimes—his brother broke between the two with his usual tact. "Ooo, and two of those!" Alex interjected, leaning past Spencer to point to the muffins a young woman was just putting into the display case to the right. She looked up at his words and smiled, pointing with one hand at the muffins. When he nodded, she pulled two off and set them on napkins, placing them down on the counter by the register. Alex pounced on them with a grin that Spencer found, frankly, rather disturbing. Then his brother turned that grin on him and Spencer tried not to take a step back from it. That look was one that never meant anything good for him. Proof to point – "I'm gonna go find us a table, pidge." And with that, Alex spun and took off, leaving Spencer standing there with his mouth hanging open.

Husky laughter reminded him that the handsome man behind the counter was probably still back there waiting for his money. "Don't y' just love family?"

Spencer mouth snapped shut and his eyes narrowed in a glare that he wished could burn a hole in the back of his brother's head. "Love. Yes. That's the word I was searching for." Turning back to face the counter, he let out a soft sigh and drew out his wallet, his annoyed look melting away. "Apparently I'm paying today. How much do I owe you?"

He paid the amount that Remy told him and soon was moving down the counter to the pickup area. He felt a small thrill when Remy moved with him, those long fingered hands going to the machines to start their coffee. There'd been no one else waiting in line behind Spencer, which meant there was no one to steal the Cajun's attention away, and Spencer found himself wishing he was more adept at flirting. Or talking to people. He didn't often have that urge. Usually he was content to just avoid people all together. He didn't quite understand them and they almost never understood him. But something about this happy looking man had Spencer wanting to try.

He was saved from finding some attempt at starting a conversation. The guy did it for him. He looked over the machines as his hands started prepping their coffee's with practiced movements. "So, y' new to de area? I aint seen y' or y'r brother round here b'fore."

"Oh, no, we've lived around here for years." Spencer answered quickly. He moved to lean against the wall separating them, giving him a nice, out of the way view of the other man while he worked. "We used to go to a different shop, but we had to, ah, try a different place today. And Alex said he'd heard the coffee here was fantastic, so…" Spencer trailed off, giving an awkward little shrug of his shoulder.

"Well, de coffee's definitely fantastic, if I do say so m'self." Remy teased, winking at him, drawing a small chuckle from Spencer. He seemed pleased to have gotten that response. His smile warmed a little more. "So, why'd y' have to go somewhere new, if y' don't mind m' asking?"

It never occurred to Spencer not to answer that honestly. "My brother slept with the barista there. She's a bit…intense, and I don't think trusting her to make or serve our coffee is a smart plan anymore."

His candor seemed to startle the other man. Remy's eyebrows went up with surprise at Spencer's blunt words before his expression dissolved into one of wicked humor. His eyes flicked over to the table where Alex waited and then turned back to Spencer, the green bright and warm and full of something that Spencer definitely wasn't used to seeing directed his way. "Well, y' don't have to worry about dat here. He aint m' type." He tipped around the counter just enough that there was no way Spencer could miss the once-over Remy gave him. When his eyes reached Spencer's face again, there was lust mixed in there and it sent a chill down Spencer's spine. "I like m' men more on de slender side."

Later on Spencer would be embarrassed at how long it took him to catch on to what Remy had meant. When it finally did register, he blushed hotter than ever, and Remy gave another of those husky, delighted sounding laughs. "_Dieu_, y'r a sweet one." He teased. With a flourish of his hand, he finished making their coffee and slid a sleeve over each cup before bringing them over to the counter by Spencer. "Here y' go, cher. Two fantastic coffees."

"Thank you." Spencer said fervently. Maybe if he got some coffee in his system he could finally wake up and stop looking like such a bumbling, blushing idiot. _Not likely. That's kind of a natural state of mind_, he reminded himself.

Remy slid a straw into each up and then stepped back, once more giving Spencer that wide, cheeky grin that just bordered on a smirk. Those sparkling eyes of his fixed right on Spencer's face. "It's m' pleasure. I hope we'll see y' round here again sometime."

It was times like these that Spencer wished he had the courage to actually say what he wanted to. He wished he had Alex's confidence, or Scott's way with words. Neither one of them would've had a single problem in asking someone for their number. But all Spencer could manage was another blush, which made Remy chuckle again, and then he was taking the coffees and making his way over to the table where Alex sat. One look at his brother told him that he'd been watched while he was over there and the teasing light already in Alex's eyes gave him the heads up that he was going to hear about this for a long, long time. Thank God, Alex was nice enough that Spencer knew he wouldn't do it here where Remy might overhear them. He knew Spencer well enough to know that Spencer would simply get up and leave. Public embarrassment was a very touchy thing for him and his brothers both respected that.

As Spencer slid down into his seat and set the coffees down on the table, he noticed something about his coffee. He gave the cup a small turn until that spot on the sleeve was visible. When he saw what was there, his blush came back hotter than ever, but a small smile touched his lips.

_555-1475 –Remy_

_I like my boys shy, too_

His eyes shot up and immediately found Remy, who was back at the register once more ringing someone up. As if he felt Spencer's stare, Remy looked up. His eyes went from Spencer's face, down to his cup, and then flashed back up to Spencer's face once more. When he saw Spencer's smile, he smiled back at him and then tipped him a wink before turning his attention back to his customer.

Spencer turned forward once more, unable to wipe his own smile off his face. He lifted his cup up and took a sip, ignoring his brother's querying voice. Today was suddenly looking up.


	6. Chance Meetings

_Another Coffee Shop meeting, only this time set in the usual crossover world. Inspired after I wrote my short "Sweet"_

* * *

_Just one more week. One more week and I can be done with this cane_. Spencer comforted himself with that thought as he stood in line at his favorite coffee shop. It felt like he'd been using this cane for forever. No sooner did that thought cross his mind than the logical half of him automatically corrected it, supplying the exact amount of time he'd been using the cane. He resisted shaking his head at himself. _Even in your own head you cannot manage to be illogical._

The line moved and he took another step forward. Just one person left between him and the register. There were mornings like this one where the coffee shop was full of people and it could take a little bit for him to get his order. However, he considered the coffee here well worth the wait. By far and above, this was the best coffee between here and work. He'd tested that theory out his first week at the BAU and once he'd discovered this place, he'd been coming here every morning ever since. The people at the counter knew him well and almost always had his coffee either waiting or almost done by the time he got to the counter to pay. The people here were friendly and he enjoyed the service almost as much as he did the coffee. Almost.

He resisted the urge to yawn when the line moved once more and he finally got to step up to the register. He'd only had a cup of coffee at home and he'd been up late the night before. The team had just returned from a case yesterday afternoon and the paperwork needed to close that case had taken a few extra hours out of the day as had the backlog of files they'd all had on their desks. And, okay, maybe he'd taken a few extra files from his friends when no one had been looking. But he always got through paperwork the fastest and if he hadn't taken those files, the others would've been there even later than he'd been. Out of them all, he was the one with the least waiting for him at home. It wasn't as big of a deal if he pulled in a few late hours at work. He didn't mind it, especially if it was helping those that he cared about. The people he cared for were few and far between and therefore all the more cherished.

Today was a Thursday, so it was Jenny who was behind the counter. The perky blond girl gave him one of her trademark toothy grins and a bubbly greeting. "Hey, Doc! Josh is just finishing up your order. You want to add anything on today?" The use of the nickname for him was so common now that he didn't even think on it. That had started almost two years ago when Jenny, fresh from high school, had been ringing up his order and Spencer had run into someone from work that referred to him as Dr. Reid. Somehow that had turned into her calling him Doc and the nickname had quickly traveled amongst the other workers, despite his flustered protests.

Spencer smiled at her and shook his head, already pulling his wallet out. "No, that'll be everything."

By the time he'd paid and had his wallet back in his pocket, Jenny had his drink. He thanked her as he took it from her. When he turned to start to move away, the next customer stepped up. As much as he loved his coffee and despite the fact that he wouldn't' go anywhere else, he really hated how crowded this place was right now. It made it just a little difficult for him to navigate with his cane, especially balancing a coffee in his free hand. He thought for sure he'd made it when he stepped around a group of chattering teenagers and suddenly ran right into someone.

Before Spencer could start to fully fall, he found himself caught up in a pair of strong arms that pulled him up and steadied him. He'd barely registered that fact when a warm voice with a thick Cajun accent said "Woah, dere." The arms holding him moved, hands going to his biceps to make sure he was steady. "_Je suis désolé_, _monsieur_. Are y' all right?"

Spencer looked up and found himself staring at the face of the most striking stranger he'd ever seen. Concerned red and black eyes were looking him over before settling on his face. For a second, Spencer found he couldn't quite speak. All he could do was look up at the handsome face in front of him. And the face was _very_ handsome. Lines at the eyes that showed someone who smiled a lot, high cheekbones, a sinful looking mouth that was starting to curve just the slightest bit. The man was a couple inches taller than him as well, making Spencer actually have to tilt his head. _Of all people to run in to, you at least ran into the most attractive one here_ his mind whispered.

Abruptly Spencer realized he was staring and heat filled his cheeks. He braced himself on his cane and took a step back, away from the hands that had held him, and he looked at them both. Somehow his coffee had managed to survive but the same couldn't be said for the man he'd run into. His cup was on the ground by them. "Oh!" The heat in Spencer's cheeks grew. "I am so sorry!"

The smile that had been starting now flashed full bloom. "Don't worry bout it. I'm just glad neither of us fell, too. Are y' okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." Spencer reassured him quickly. "I'm so sorry about your drink. Here, let me get you another one."

"It's fine, really…"

"No, please. It's the least I can do. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and this is entirely my fault. Let me replace your drink, please."

The man's smile grew just a little bit and Spencer felt a little jolt, low down in his stomach. "_D'accord_. _Mais_ only if y'll sit and drink with me."

That had been the very last thing Spencer had expected him to say. Had this striking gentleman seriously just invited him to join him for morning coffee? Him, Spencer Reid? Maybe the man was asking simply because he felt bad for them running into one another. That had to be it. Spencer smiled nervously and shifted his weight a little. "I'm sorry, I'm actually about to go meet my ride and go to work." And he really was sorry that he had to say no. It wasn't every day he got invited to coffee by someone, let alone someone so good looking. And that voice! He'd always enjoyed Will's smooth accent. This man's voice held a thicker Cajun sound to it that sent a little shiver down Spencer's spine. Looking at the guy, Spencer got that little jolt in his stomach again and he suddenly found the courage to do something that he typically would never do. He took a risk and said, "But uh, you know, maybe we could get together another morning or something." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he prayed he hadn't read the guy wrong. It would be just his luck to find out that the man was just being polite—or that he was straight!—and this would all end up one embarrassing mix-up.

His moment of bravery was rewarded when the guy's smile warmed a little more. "I'd like dat." Shifting a little, he drew a backpack off his shoulder that Spencer hadn't noticed before. He reached in and drew out a notepad and a pencil. Quickly he scrawled something down before tearing off a piece of the paper and putting his items back in the bag. Then he held out the slip of paper toward the young genius. Spencer reached out with the hand that held his coffee, taking the paper between two fingers. On it he saw a phone number. Above the number was scrawled the name _Remy_. Looking up, he saw the man—Remy, presumably—flash him another of those heart-stopping smiles. "Give me a call when y'r free."

Spencer swore the blush in his cheeks grew a little brighter. "I will." Just then Spencer's phone started to ring. He looked down at his bag where his phone was. When it stopped after a few seconds, he knew who it was. That would be Derek calling to let him know he was outside. Ever since Spencer had come back to work on his crutches, Derek met him here at the coffee shop and drove him to work. He called and then hung up to let Spencer know he was there so that Spencer wouldn't have to juggle his cane and coffee while trying to answer the phone. It was something they'd set up when Spencer switched from crutches to cane. "That's uh, that's my ride, letting me know he's here. I should probably, um, go."

He'd started to move away when a husky laugh and a hand on his arm drew his attention back to Remy. "Do I get to know y'r name before y' race off on me?"

Oh! His blush deepened even more until he swore it felt like his face was burning. "Spencer. Spencer Reid."

Remy let go of his arm and grinned. "It was a pleasure running into y', Spencer Reid. I hope to hear from y' soon."

Spencer managed to stammer out "It was nice to meet you too" before he turned and hurried out of the coffee shop. He looked back when he got to the door and he saw Remy squatting down at the spilled coffee beside one of the employees, the two of them using rags to wipe up the mess. None of the other customers were even paying attention. None had paid any attention to the whole exchange. Someone cleared their throat and Spencer startled, realizing he was holding up traffic. He hurried out the door, clearing the way. He was still blushing slightly when he made it to Derek's car. The man was leaning against the passenger's door just like he had been every morning, arms crossed over his chest and a smile on his face as he waited for his best friend. He took in Spencer's red cheeks and flustered expression in one look and he pushed off the car, his expression turning teasing. "Something wrong there, kid?" he asked teasingly.

"I'm fine." The response was automatic and required no thought. He was barely thinking, really. If he had been, he would've realized he still held the paper with Remy's number _before_ Derek reached out to take his coffee. However, he didn't even think of it until Derek took both paper and cup and said "Now what do we have here?"

He'd let Derek take the cup because that's what his friend usually did, freeing up Spencer's hands so he could get into the car easier. Now, hearing that amused question, Spencer wished he'd just held on to his cup. His cheeks heated once more. Though it would only stall the man for a moment, Spencer avoided answering him and instead slipped into his seat. He could hear Derek's laughter while he shut the door. That only gave him a short break and then Derek was in the driver's seat, handing Spencer both his coffee and the piece of paper, and he was teasing once more. "Look at you, pretty boy! Picking up numbers in a coffee shop."

"It's nothing, Morgan." Embarrassed and yet pleased all at the same time, Spencer glanced once more at the paper before slipping it into his bag. He didn't need to keep it; already he had the number memorized. But still, it was nice to keep it. It wasn't every day someone handed out their number to him.

Derek laughed and turned his car on. "Oh, I think it's more than nothing. Even your ears are red, kid. Now, come on, spill the beans. Tell me about this person. Did I see the name was Remy?"

He knew Derek wasn't going to let this go. If Spencer didn't answer his questions now, Derek would just bug him about it all day long until he finally did get the answers. And, honestly, Spencer didn't really mind answering the questions so much. At least, not with his best friend. If there was anyone in his life that he could talk to about anything then it would be Derek Morgan. He was one of the only people in Spencer's life who had taken the time to look past the exterior, past the shields that Spencer put up between him and the world, and find out who the person was that lived inside. Not only had he looked, but he miraculously liked the person he found. From there the two had forged a friendship that was more familial than anything else.

Spencer took a drink of his coffee to give himself a second to gather his thoughts together. Then he looked down at his hands and smiled just a little to himself. Derek let him have the quiet, knowing Spencer well enough to know when the man was getting the words together that he wanted to say. Patiently he drove in silence, waiting. It didn't take long. Spencer looked up at him and flashed that hesitant smile of his. "You're probably going to laugh at me for this, but I'll say it anyways. It was rather crowded in there and I wasn't paying complete attention and I ran right into someone. He caught me, but I spilled his coffee."

He was right. Derek let out one of his deep laughs. "Leave it to you, Reid. Oh, man. All right. Keep going. How'd that end up with you getting his number?"

Spencer relaxed just a little in his seat and he relayed the conversation to his friend. It felt a little strange; he wasn't really the type to _gossip_. But he couldn't deny that it felt kind of…nice. That nice feeling didn't get to last, though. He'd just finished telling his story when both their phones went off. That meant only one thing; they had a case. Derek sped up the slightest bit while Spencer answered his phone, both their minds already switching over to work mode. By the time the call was done, all thoughts of attractive men in coffee shops were pushed away. It was time to get to work.


	7. Sparring

"Sparring turned to fun" Kind of inspired by my Trio series, mostly just a silly bit of not much, lol

* * *

The audience up in the control room had Spencer shifting nervously. He wasn't fond of fighting like this with people watching. He didn't often fight anymore and he'd never full on fought with Logan before. With Remy, yes, but not with Logan. Partially because he knew he'd easily get his ass kicked and partially because it went against the grain to fight with the man. Something in him responded to the feral in Logan and he knew that a fight between them could easily turn into much, much more.

Logan's grin was wide and it was easy to see he was pleased. He stood in the middle of the Danger Room simulation of a gym, watching Spencer. "Ya ready for this?"

"You sound far, far too eager." Spencer grumbled at him. He took a deep breath and tried to center himself. "Powers or no powers?"

"Use what ya got, kid. I can keep ya out. Let's do this."

CXCX

Up in the control room, Remy grinned as he watched Spencer's posture shift. He loved watching either of his men fight. Their styles were so very different and he appreciated each one. Logan was quick and nasty when he wanted, but he could also be blunt and hard in his blows. He was an unstoppable cement wall that would eventually flatten anything in its path. Spencer went the other direction entirely. He knew he wasn't the most graceful or the most talented, so he chose to emphasize the traits he was good in. Speed being one of them. He was an economy of motion, only moving when he had to and never leaping when a simple step would do.

"He's good." Scott murmured, after watching the two men for about fifteen minutes. "A little rough, a little unsure, but he has a solid base to start with. A little training and he could definitely make a good fighter."

Remy smiled proudly. "He's still holding back some. Spencer, he aint a fighter. He don't like it. He'd rather talk his way out dan fight his way out." He heard Logan call out something and he couldn't help but chuckle. That was the man's first mistake. "_Mais_, Logan's in fo' it now. He shouldn't never have suggested testing him with weapons. Dis is gonna be fun." Settling in, he watched Spencer go to the weapons rack. He knew what the young genius would take. Spencer sifted through a few daggers before choosing two that he wanted. Held backwards in his hands, the points rested by his elbows. Now they would really see what his boy was made of.

Logan's claws came out and Spencer held his arms at the ready and then the two were circling one another. Logan was the one to make the first move, naturally. He feinted and lunged and Spencer easily slipped around his hand, coming up with one arm as he went around him and scoring a small mark over Logan's bicep. The feral man laughed loud and clear. "Quit holding back, brat!" he called out to Spencer. "Ya aint gonna break me. I'll heal right up."

"If you insist." Spencer responded easily.

Remy could actually see Spencer take a deep breath before letting it out, releasing all the tension. His whole body changed, loosening up in a way he rarely did. A low hum slid up Remy's throat. "Dere we go." He murmured appreciatively. "Now he aint holding back. Now y'll see what he's got hidden in dere. Kick his ass, cher."

A startled laugh slipped from Scott when Spencer scored four cuts in the next few minutes. For one, the young man had actually dropped down and cut the back of Logan's calf. For this mock fight, it was an easy wound for Logan to heal. In a real fight, Spencer could've easily hamstrung him, and Logan and those watching knew that. "He's not as unsure now." Scott commented.

"He's in de zone. Ah, cher, tuck dat elbow in." He threw the last part out, even knowing Spencer couldn't hear him, and then went back to answering Scott. "He doesn't like hitting, really. He says he knows he aint got de strength in him fo' de blows necessary. _Mais_ he learned blades a long, long time ago. Aint many dat know de _homme_ know dat he's got a t'ing fo' knives and swords of all sizes."

"Suddenly I'm understanding what attracts you all to one another." Scott said dryly.

Remy laughed and winked. Then he turned his attention fully to his lovers. The fight that came next was a beautiful sight for Remy to watch. He forgot about the others around him. All of his attention focused on the two that were twisting and turning and moving around one another. Spencer got in quite a few cuts while he sported only one on his bicep from Logan's claws. Then came the moment that Remy had known was possible. Spencer moved just a little too slow and Logan's claws scored across his forearm, two of them opening up lines of red on that smooth skin, and suddenly the atmosphere in the room below changed. Remy felt Spencer's emotions jerk from the calm of a fight to something a little more…primal. He saw the look on Logan's face when the Wolverine caught the scent of his prey's blood. In that moment, Remy knew there was only one way this fight was going to end. He knew how it would go before it even happened.

Still, he couldn't stop from watching as Spencer threw himself into the fight, yet at the same time the young genius wasn't putting his all into it. There were a few moves that Remy knew Spencer could've avoided. He just didn't want to. It was no surprise at all when Logan suddenly managed to knock Spencer's legs out from under him and he was on him, pinning his body to the ground with his hands held in a tight grip above his head. Spencer didn't struggle against the grip that held him down. He tipped his head up and exposed the long column of his throat, not moving an inch when Logan pressed his sharp teeth there.

Remy reached forward and hit the controls to end the simulation, returning the Danger Room to its normal state. He knew that if he didn't give them an out, things would happen right here in the open where anyone could see. Logan wouldn't care but Spencer would.

With the room clear and the door visible, Logan didn't hesitate to yank Spencer up to his feet, never letting go of his wrists. He dragged the man out of the room and Spencer easily followed behind them. Remy watched them go, letting himself bask in their emotions for a moment.

"Why do I get the feeling that Spencer threw that match?" Scott murmured lowly.

Humor quirked Remy's lips. "Cause y' aint stupid, _homme_. Spencer could've ended dat a while ago, _mais…_" Trailing off, he gave a shrug. Then he looked at Scott and grinned. "Y' wanna spar, Scotty? Remy's t'inking he should give de boys a little alone time, _non_?"

"You aren't going to join?" Scott arched a brow at him and his grin was sharp and teasing.

Laughing, Remy shook his head, not in the least bit embarrassed about the audience for their conversation. "_Non_, _mon ami_. We aint insecure enough dat we gotta be together every time. De Wolverine, he needs to mark his territory, _oui_? It'll be Remy's turn later, make no doubt about dat. He'll hunt me out and lay his claim on his Cajun. Spencer will, too. Fo' now, dey need one another, and Remy, he needs a distraction."


	8. Club Stardust

_Prompt/Request "Do something outside the gender norm, J. Something that not many people do" Well, ma chere, here it is :) Hope everyone likes it! This was a gift to a good friend_

* * *

Walking through the doors of the club Stardust was kind of like walking into a different world. Spencer Reid stepped through those doors and he left behind the image that he played each and every day and was finally able to let himself go and just _be_. Tonight was the first night in the past six weeks that not only did the team have free time, but they weren't too exhausted from a previous case to enjoy it. They had a four day weekend that was all theirs. The minute they'd found out about it, Emily had pulled Spencer aside and insisted that this meant a night out on the town—after a night for resting, of course. They all needed that full night of sleep to feel human again. But the second night she'd declared 'fun night' and had firmly told Spencer that he wasn't going to skip out this time. She, Spencer, and Emily's girlfriend Maya were going to dress up and hit up their favorite bar/club.

No one would've ever placed either one of them at Stardust. Not only because Spencer didn't come off as the type to go 'clubbing', but because Stardust was a mixed club. People of all sexuality were welcome, as well as those of all gender, and anything in between. They didn't turn anyone away and they didn't allow discrimination of any kind inside their doors. Not against looks, gender, sexuality, mutants—nothing. It was the last place anyone else on the BAU team would've gone and the last place they'd expect to see either Emily or Spencer. Then again, as far as anyone knew, Spencer and Emily were both straight and wouldn't have any reason to go there. They had no idea that Emily was bisexual, or that Spencer was gay and what he considered 'gender fluid'.

It'd taken a lot of years for Spencer to finally put a term to how he felt about himself. Being gay hadn't been all that difficult. He'd known that from the first male crush he'd had in college. It was the gender fluid that had taken him time to figure out and he'd only managed that thanks to one of his psychology classes that had discussed gender and sexuality. Gender fluid is a gender identity best described as a dynamic mix of male and female. Some people who are gender fluid may always feel like a mix of the two genders, some days more one than the other, while others feel that they have very defined moments of feeling either male or female. Like any other term or label, it meant something a little different to each person because no two people are exactly the same. For Spencer, he didn't feel specifically male or female inside, but more a mix of the two. Some days, yes, he felt a little more one than the other, but more often than not he just felt like a mix of both, with both masculine and feminine mannerisms, feelings, tastes. If asked to identify his gender, how he _felt_ not what he was labeled as, his answer probably would've been both.

However, raised in the life he had been, and with the views that society had, he'd learned to be accepting of the label put on him. His body was male, people saw him as male, and those were the pronouns he used. It didn't bother him when someone used 'he' when talking about him. There were some who were bothered by it, he knew. A good friend of his that he'd met at the LGBT center downtown, the one who'd actually introduced him to the club he was going to tonight, was gender fluid as well only his shifts were a bit more drastic when they happened and he had a preference to switch pronouns. It was easy to tell which to use. When Vick felt more like Vicki, the makeup came out, and that was a dead giveaway to which pronouns to use. Others still, Spencer knew, used the gender neutral pronouns such as ze and zir.

Spencer was content using 'he'. It didn't really matter in the end to him.

What he tended to hide, what Emily had discovered that night at the club, was how his fluidity affected his physical appearance. There was a reason that Spencer kept his hair the length he did. It allowed him quite a few different forms of expression. When he shopped for clothes, he always went for comfortable, but he'd never bothered to worry about which department he shopped in, be it men's or women's. At least, not if he could get away with it. He'd learned to do that kind of shopping where he wouldn't risk running into someone he knew.

The night that Spencer had run into Emily, he'd had his hair clipped back over one ear with bright star clips that Vicki had put in for him, and he'd been dressed in a pair of comfortable slacks, low heeled boots, and a silky purple tank top, with dark purple earrings in. Vicki had bought him the outfit and he'd loved it, loved how he felt in it. Between that and the light makeup that he'd been wearing, there hadn't been any way to keep his secret a secret from Emily anymore.

She'd risen above and beyond for him. Not only had she understood, she'd been extremely supportive and Spencer had found himself one hell of a friend. Someone who didn't think him strange, didn't try to push him one direction or the other. Who didn't just assume that he liked feminine things because he was gay, as if gender and sexuality were so automatically connected. Someone who had taken the time to sit down with him and ask all the important questions, like what he felt, what made him uncomfortable, was there any term he preferred or anything that she shouldn't say, and did he want her to switch pronouns when she spoke with him outside of work? Spencer had been completely and utterly stunned. He'd been even more stunned a week later when she'd dragged him home with her after work and insisted they were going out together, and she hadn't even questioned when he'd gone for a more masculine look that night. Emily accepted every bit of him without prejudice and Spencer absolutely adored her for it. She was like the supportive big sister he'd never had. Not only did she support his lifestyle, she encouraged it, supporting him to open up in ways that he was usually a little afraid to.

She was at his side tonight, Maya already beside her. The three of them created quite an image according to Emily.

Maya was most definitely a very feminine girl. Petite, with a slender waist and a gorgeous figure, she rarely ever wore pants, opting instead for skirts and dresses. Tonight she was in a little black number that Spencer knew she wore just because Emily loved it. Her auburn hair was piled messily on her head with curls spilling down here and there and her blue eyes were alight with the happiness of simply being out with the one she loved. She was one of the happiest people that Spencer knew. Quiet, like he could be, yet spunky, and she loved Emily with everything she had.

Beside her, Emily was looking pretty good herself. She'd gone for comfortable in the lower heels, the form fitting black slacks and the low cut white floral top, yet she looked even more beautiful for its simple elegance.

Spencer was comfortably dressed as well, in clothes he didn't get a chance to wear anywhere else. Emily had dressed him tonight, much to her enjoyment. She'd put him in a pair of simple blue jeans—they were a pair he'd admired in the store and that he wouldn't have bought if Emily hadn't given him the courage. They were women's jeans, which he found he could fit into thanks to a naturally slender waist. They were just plain dark blue jeans. But according to Emily, "They sit nice on your hips and they actually give you an ass, Reid. A lot better than those usual slacks you wear." To go with it, she'd put him in a blue silk V-neck and one of her fitted black blazers to go over it. She'd brushed his hair loose and free and put on a light coating of makeup, mostly around the eyes. Just a bit of eyeliner and some color to make them 'pop', she said. He'd been the one to add the earrings, just because, and he'd picked out the low heeled boots that came halfway up his calf.

All in all, he highly doubted anyone from work would recognize him at all and that was fine by him. Tonight wasn't about work.

As had become their norm, the trio didn't stay downstairs where the main dance floor was. They took the side staircase up to the second floor where the bar and the pool tables were at. Up here they could still hear the music, still enjoy the sound, but they could find a table and share a few drinks or they could challenge one another to a game of pool, and if they felt the urge to socialize more or dance, all they had to do was dip downstairs. This place catered to pretty much all tastes. It worked out for them, because Emily and Maya often enjoyed going to dance whereas Spencer more liked the upstairs atmosphere where he wasn't as crowded by people. With this setup they could alternate as needed and just enjoy themselves.

Downstairs was already pretty packed but the upstairs wasn't too bad. They easily found themselves a table towards the far side of the room, near a surprisingly open pool table. Emily left him and Maya to hold the table while she went to grab the drinks.

Maya folded her arms on the table and smiled brightly at him. "I'm so glad you guys were able to get out tonight. You've been running ragged lately."

"Things have been hectic lately." Spencer admitted. He twisted a little in his chair, years of habit having him keeping his back towards the wall. He smiled back at the sweet girl that had become a rather good friend to him over the past year that she and Emily had been dating. "What about you? Emily said the hospital's had you on rather long hours." Maya worked in the pediatric ward at the hospital and sometimes ended up with hours just as long as theirs.

They talked about work until Emily came back to the table with their drinks. She listened for one second as she set the drinks down and then quickly cut in. "Hey, hey, none of this! This is not a night for work talk! I've had enough shop talk." Folding herself down into the chair at Maya's side, she slid one arm around her girlfriend's shoulders and pulled her in close against her side in a casual and comfortable move that made Spencer smile. She picked up her own drink and held it up. "Enough shop talk. Tonight's about us and about having fun!"

"Hear, hear!" Maya cheered, lifting her own glass. Spencer lifted his as well and couldn't help but laugh when the girls clinked their glasses against his.

It was always so easy for Spencer to relax when out like this. He'd never really been able to find the words to explain it to anyone else properly how he could go from the shy and nervous kid that most saw every day to this more relaxed, easy going person that he became when he let go like this. There was just something about not having to hide, about being able to openly be himself with people who knew him and who accepted him, that just made him so much more relaxed. He was still mostly shy, still stumbled occasionally and moved with that awkwardness that came from being so caught up in his own thoughts that he sort of forgot the physical world around him. The difference was really that he was more comfortable in his own skin this way. And while that may not have given him the ease or grace that others had naturally, it did give him a more relaxed and approachable air.

A group of guys came to the open pool table near them and Spencer shifted himself just enough that his long legs weren't sticking out anymore. He drew one up enough that the heel of his boot rested on the bottom rung of the seat, and he crossed the other, keeping that foot tucked close enough to the table not to be in the way. As he sat back in his chair, Spencer ran his eyes over the people, not even noticing that Emily did the same. It was habit for them from too many years at the Bureau. These guys were close to them, close enough to cause trouble, and training had them assessing the potential threat and looking for anything that might hint that there could be trouble. While this club was one of the most tolerant around, and well known for that, there were some people that could lose their tolerance when they got enough alcohol in them. Those were the ones you had to watch out for.

These two guys most definitely looked like they could be a threat, if they wanted, but nothing in their body language suggested that they were going to cause trouble. Emily dismissed them with one small, appreciative look, one that didn't go unnoticed by her partner. The arm slap that Maya gave her had Emily laughingly protesting and Spencer smothering a smirk in his drink. "What?" Emily tried for innocent and failed miserably at it.

"You know what, Emily Prentiss." Maya mock scolded her.

Spencer ignored them briefly while the two had their playful, fake argument. Whereas Emily had dismissed the two, his own eyes couldn't help lingering. Both men were decidedly attractive. One was shorter and on the stocky side, the build of a brawler. Someone you definitely wouldn't want to mess with. His hair was dark and messy and he had thick sideburns that not many could pull off. A good looing, strong sort of guy. Attractive, yes, but not typically Spencer's type. Now the guy with him…Spencer had to remind himself not to stare. This guy had the kind of looks that just begged to be looked at. Darker auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail, with just a bit hanging down over a devilishly handsome face that was partially hidden by sunglasses. Full lips were curved up in more smirk than smile, like he was causing trouble of some sort or at least plotting it. He was tall, probably taller than Spencer—a huge plus. He had a thing for taller guys. And that body, what Spencer could see of it, was enough to have him humming lightly into his drink. Not stacked with muscles like his friend, he still had the obvious look of a fighter, strength and fluidity in every long, delicious line of him. Spencer had seen forms like that on martial artists before and he wondered if that was something this guy did. Now if only he'd remove that coat; then Spencer could have a much better look. Not that the coat didn't work for him in all the best ways.

A none-too-gentle kick under the table had Spencer jolting and his eyes snapping back over to his friends. He found Maya and Emily both grinning knowingly at him. Immediately he felt his cheeks heat. "Don't even start with me." He warned them both.

Emily lifted a hand and laid it innocently over her heart. "Me? Spencer, I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Mm hm." He said dryly. "Try it with someone who doesn't know you better, Prentiss."

Reaching out, Maya patted Spencer's arm. "Ignore her, Spencer. There's no harm in checking someone out."

"Especially when they're checking you out, too." Emily added in a low murmur.

Spencer's eyes shot over before he could stop himself. Sure enough, the gorgeous man was looking his direction, leaning casually against the pool table while his friend racked the balls. When he saw Spencer looking his way, his lips curved up a little more and he tipped his head in a silent sort of greeting that had Spencer flushing all the more. If anything, that just made the guy's smirk grow.

"Look at you!" Emily teased, her voice pitched low enough that only their table could hear. "Way to go, Reid! We've barely even been here a half an hour yet and you've already got someone on the line."

"Oh, be quiet." He grumbled. He didn't come out on these nights to 'hook up' and Emily knew that very well. It never stopped her from teasing him, though.

"Leave him be, Em! You're embarrassing him." Maya scolded. "Be nice to him. Reid, why don't you tell me about that class you're taking over at GWU. Didn't you tell me before that you were thinking about taking an anthropology class?"

That right there was one of Maya's many skills and one that Spencer had always appreciated. She had this ability to remember pretty much everything people told her about themselves, even little things like their Aunt's name or when someone's birthday was, and she showed an honest interest in hearing about whatever a person told her. Emily said it was what made her so good at working with children. She was always interested in what they had to say, even if it was the same story they'd told her twelve times already, and she could always manage to set them at ease with just a short conversation. For Spencer, who tended to get nervous in large social gatherings, appreciated this ability of hers more than most might. Even though he knew she was doing it deliberately, it didn't negate the effects. He knew she was trying to set him at ease and he let her do it, opening up and answering all the questions she asked about his anthropology course as well as some things she hadn't asked about. Not once did she cut him off or look like she was bored with it.

She drew Emily in too, until somehow Spencer found the three of them discussing in depth the psychiatric labeling in cross-cultural perspective. Apparently Emily had taken an anthropology course in college just for the joy of doing something that her mother didn't approve of and she'd found that she'd enjoyed it. That, of course, led to stories about college life, and Maya had them laughing as she told of the pranks that she and the other med students had often played on one another during classes just to help break up the tension that could build.

Little by little it had Spencer mostly forgetting the world around him and slowly relaxing again. He found himself smiling and laughing and having a better time than he'd had in weeks. If every now and again his eyes strayed to the gorgeous guy still playing pool nearby, well, that was all part of being out in a club like this, right?

During one of those quick looks—what person could resist taking a look when that gorgeous body was bent over the edge of the table like that?—he was distracted enough that he missed the look that passed between Emily and Maya. They drew his attention again when they both rose from the table. "We're gonna go dance for a bit." Emily told him, taking Maya's hand in hers and pulling her out. "We'll be right back."

It was a normal thing for them to do, so Spencer didn't think anything of it. Just waved them off before settling back into his seat. They'd barely gone when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He was already cursing in his mind before he even pulled it out. _Please, please, don't let there be a case. Hotch swore no cases unless an absolute emergency_. He didn't want to even think about what kind of emergency might be happening for them to be called in. But when he brought his phone out and thumbed open the messages it wasn't Penelope telling them to come in. It was Emily. _Talk 2 him! – Em_

That devious little witch. Spencer flushed a little and shook his head. _Quit trying to set me up!_ He typed back to her.

It was only a second later that her reply came in. _Psh. Don't ruin my fun! – Em_ followed almost immediately by another that said _If anything happens, remember, pictures!_

Spencer dropped his head down a little and laughed at that one. He thumbed out a quick _You wish!_ in reply.

Caught up in his message, he hadn't noticed anyone getting close to his table and he almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a husky, whiskey-warmed voice say "Y' should do dat more often."

His gaze shot up from his phone only to find that the gorgeous guy he'd been admiring off and on for the past half hour was standing near his table, leaning back against the pool table and smiling at him. Caught off guard and more than a little flustered, the best that Spencer managed to get out was "I beg your pardon?" because seriously, what was this guy talking about? Do what more often?

The guy's smile grew a little and, dammit, it was not fair for one person to be that attractive. Especially not when all they were doing was smiling, _smirking, _and leaning there against a pool table. That shouldn't be such a hot look. But it was. The guy rested his pool cue casually over his shoulder and tipped his head just a little, a small bit of hair dropping down over his face. "Laugh." He answered. "Y' got a gorgeous laugh. Y' should do it more often."

There was no stopping the blush that hit his cheeks. Spencer dipped his head a little to try and hide it behind his hair, sneaking a glance up through his bangs. "Thank you."

"What're y' doing over here all alone?" The guy asked him. "Did y'r friends leave y', cher?"

Spencer shook his head. "Oh, no, they just went to dance."

"And y' didn't go wit' dem?"

He bit the inside of his lip and shrugged one shoulder negligently. "I'm not much of a dancer."

"Dat's a shame." The way he said it made it seem like he didn't mean it at all. "Maybe I could buy y' another drink an keep y' company until dey come back."

Oh, sweet Heavens. It was a line, no doubt about that, but Spencer didn't care. He didn't care how clichéd any of it was. Honest pleasure warmed his face as he nodded. "I'd like that."

The guy pushed off of the table and stepped towards him, holding out one long fingered hand. "M' names Remy. Remy LeBeau."

Spencer took his hand, something that was rare for him. Shaking hands wasn't usually his thing. Very rarely did Spencer reach out to touch strangers. But he shook Remy's hand and enjoyed the warm feel of it, trying very hard not to imagine what that hand would feel like on the rest of him. "Spencer Reid."

He drew Spencer's hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss against his knuckles. "It's a pleasure to meet y', M. Reid."

Flustered, and more pleased by the gesture than he cared to admit to, his brain apparently short circuited because he found himself stupidly blurting out "You lay it on rather thick, don't you?" As soon as the words were out he wanted to curse himself for coming off sounding like an asshole. Yeah, that's really smart. Always nice to be sarcastic and rude when someone's being kind and flirting. That's a great way to impress them. _Real smooth, Reid_, he scolded himself.

To his utter surprise, Remy wasn't offended. He laughed and gave Spencer's hand a squeeze before he let go of it. "Been accused of dat a time or two." He admitted, leaning in a little bit closer and flashing a glimpse of red and black over the top of his sunglasses, giving him a quick wink. "Besides, somet'ing tells me y' don't mind all dat much, _non_?"

He laughed at Spencer's blush. Not mockingly, just warmly, husky in a way that sent shivers down Spencer's spine. Reaching out, he snagged Spencer's empty glass off the table. "Let me go get dem drinks, cher. I'll be right back."

Spencer took a moment to admire that lithe form as it moved through the crowd. Chewing on his bottom lip, he debated for a second and then quickly typed off a message on his phone. Once it was done, he slid it back into his pocket and settled himself into his chair, both shy and eager about whatever was going to happen next. Something told him it was going to be fun.

_You two are on your own. See you tomorrow. - SR_

_And I'm not sending pictures! - SR_


	9. First Date

_So many people liked the gender-fluid Spencer, so I thought I'd add another clip. I may take these and put them on their own document at some point and just do random clips/drabbles of gender-fluid Spencer. I'm not sure. For now, enjoy this clip from their first real date! And to answer all your reviews that ask me if I intend on writing out any of these - Yes. One day, when my other stuff is done, I plan on writing out each one of these. So as soon as I finish some things, I'll be picking from here for my next story. :)_

* * *

He was late, he was late, he was _late_. Spencer chanted curse in Latin as he tore through the front door of his apartment building and made a mad dash for the stairs. Of all the days to be bogged down with paperwork and actually end up _late_ why did it have to be today? If it hadn't been for Emily seeing that Spencer had once more magically managed to have more paperwork than everyone else—really, did they all think he didn't realize that extra files got slipped into his pile?—and coming over and stealing some, he would've been running even later. Bless her even more, she'd made sure he got out the door at a semi decent time and she'd even stalled Derek for him so that the man wouldn't be able to catch up to Spencer and realize just how rushed he was, which would've led to questions that Spencer didn't want to answer. He cared about Derek, really he did, but with as nervous as Spencer already was, the last thing he wanted to do was put up with teasing from his friend about his date tonight.

Spencer took the first staircase two at a time in his effort to hurry. He'd been looking forward to this for days; ever since that night at the club. He and Remy had sat and talked for _hours_, drinking and laughing and even getting up to play a game of pool. Eventually, something had called Remy away, much to Spencer's disappointment, but the Cajun hadn't been shy at all about asking Spencer out on a real date. They set plans for Monday night, exchanged numbers, and Spencer had rode on cloud nine the whole way home.

Now here it was, Monday night, and Remy was due to show up any second, hence the reason for Spencer's furious Latin curses. He'd wanted to have enough time to shower and make himself look good. Dates were one of the times where he fell more towards the feminine side of the gender spectrum. He liked to take the time to make himself look good. Dates drew out that part of him that wanted to dress nicer, look nicer. The part that actually cared about what he looked like even though he didn't in his day to day life. Vicki liked to joke that that was the 'male' part of him, the one that just threw on appropriate work clothes without caring about how awkward or out of place it made him look for dressing like a professor instead of an FBI agent. Spencer would always roll his eyes and remind her that he didn't really differentiate those parts of himself. He was who he was.

When Spencer reached the top of the final staircase, he almost slid as he went round the corner, just managing to catch himself on the railing before he ended up falling flat on his ass. And didn't it just fit the way the night had gone when he realized that Remy was standing there in front of his door and had just witnessed his less than graceful dash and slip. _At least I didn't fall._

Those sinful lips curved up into the smirk that had heated Spencer's blood more than once that night. "Well hey dere, Spencer. I guess dat explains why y' wasn't answering y'r door."

Spencer straightened back up and reached down into his pocket for his keys, trying to hide the bright blush of embarrassment. "I am so sorry. There was a ton of paperwork and everyone just sort of dumped theirs off on me and of course, I couldn't just ignore it or give them back…" Any further rambling was cut off when Remy stepped forward and caught Spencer's chin between finger and thumb. He tilted Spencer's face up, hand sliding to cup his cheek, and then Spencer forgot everything around him when Remy bowed down and pressed their lips together in a kiss that was slow and sweet and that completely stalled Spencer's brain. When Remy pulled back, Spencer could only stand there, lips parted on a soft breath, looking stupidly up at him. Remy smirked and stroked lightly over Spencer's cheek. "T'ought dat might be de quickest way to end dat rant." He teased Spencer, and his tone clearly made it a tease. "Besides, dat gets dat nerve-wracking first kiss outta de way, _non_? No waiting fo' de end of de night."

"I like the way you think." Spencer murmured. He rubbed his cheek ever so slightly against Remy's hand, enjoying the smoothness of his palm compared to the calloused fingertips.

Remy swept his thumb over Spencer's cheekbone and hummed in the back of his throat. "Y' know, technically, we spent enough time together at de club dat dis could count as our second date."

"Oh?" A hint of a smile touched Spencer's lips.

"Mm hm. Which, if I remember right, means I can do dis again."

The kiss this time was a little longer and Spencer was breathing just a bit heavier by the time it was done. Remy smiled down at him and gave him one last, quick peck before he stepped back, dropping his hand. It took Spencer a second to remember how to move again. When he caught Remy smirking at him, his cheeks flushed and he scrambled forward to finally unlock his door. Once he got it open, he gestured over his shoulder for Remy to follow him. "Come on it and make yourself comfortable. It shouldn't take me but a moment to change out of my work clothes and put my gun away."

"Y'r inviting me in?"

Spencer looked back over his shoulder and gave him an incredulous look. What kind of question was that? "Well I'm not going to make you wait in the hallway."

For a moment Remy just looked at him. Then, with a shake of his head, he followed Spencer inside. "Has anyone ever told y' dat y'r far too trusting fo' an FBI agent?"

"I may not look it, but I am capable of defending myself, Remy."

"Not everyt'ing's gonna be scared of dat gun of y'rs, cher."

There were multiple ways that Spencer could answer that. He could give a standard answer, he could ignore it, or he could show Remy the same trust that Remy had showed him when he'd let Spencer see behind his sunglasses and he could answer it honestly. It only took him a second to decide. Turning around, Spencer looked at Remy and very carefully _pushed_, using his mind to press back until Remy was firmly held against the wall from head to toe by a force the Cajun couldn't see. "I can defend myself." Spencer repeated calmly. Then he carefully let go once more.

The smile Remy wore as he straightened back up was both amused and mischievous. "Telekinetic. Nice."

Another blush warmed Spencer's cheeks. Damn this man for doing that to him so easily! It wasn't fair. Tucking a bit of hair behind his ear, Spencer gestured down the hall. "I'll be, um, right back. Just go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I shouldn't be but a minute."

"Take y'r time, cher. We got time b'fore our reservations." Remy reassured him as he strolled over to look at one of Spencer's bookshelves. "Go ahead, take a minute, put y'r face on if y' want. I'll be plenty entertained here wit' y'r books."

One word out of all of that rang in Spencer's mind as he hurried back to his bedroom to get ready to go. _Reservations_. Wherever Remy was taking him, it was somewhere that required reservations, and that limited extremely just how Spencer was going to look. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was end up embarrassing Remy in any way. Dressing the way he had the other night at the club, that was definitely out. Running into a guy in a woman's shirt and makeup at a mixed club like Stardust was one thing. Taking that person out to somewhere that had _reservations_? Yeah, that was something totally different. He needed to be careful about what he chose. Spencer tried to ignore the small pang that gave him as he hurried to put his gun away and get out of his work clothes. Just once, it'd be really nice if he could go out somewhere and not have to worry.

In the end, conscious of the fact that he was keeping his date waiting, Spencer finally settled on a pair of black jeans—and if they were women's jeans, well, who else but him would know, huh?—and a soft, dark purple dress shirt. He'd chosen nice because Remy had been dressed nice. Spencer had noticed that earlier, despite the embarrassment he'd been in. Remy was wearing dark jeans as well and what had looked to be a black shirt and dark red vest underneath his trench coat. That was the gauge that Spencer used for himself and why he picked the dress shirt that he did. The dark purple was a good look for him and it was soft and silky and, according to Emily, gave him a classy look. He really would've liked to top it off with a bit of eyeshadow, maybe some eyeliner, but he resisted. Just like he resisted the earrings that he knew would go with it all perfectly. He did, however, indulge a little bit, pulling on the heeled boots that he so loved, the very same ones he'd worn that night at the club that had put him just a few inches shorter than Remy. That thought made him wonder what their height difference would be like without the heels. He hadn't been paying attention during their kiss to really notice. How could he be expected to have paid attention to anything but that kiss?

When he finally hurried back out to the living room, he found Remy sitting in one of his chairs, a book in hand. It surprised him to see that it was Tristan and Isolde. He was in the middle of the book, too, and looked to be enjoying it, like he'd read the book before and had skimmed to his favorite part while waiting for Spencer. There weren't many people around Spencer's age that would not only be able to read that book, but read it in French like Remy was right now.

The sound of his heels drew Remy's head up. The immediate smile that curved his lips and the flare of appreciation in his eyes went a long way towards soothing Spencer's annoyance at his own appearance. "Well would y' look at y'." Remy murmured. He carefully closed the book and rose from the chair, putting the book back on the shelf in just the right spot. Then he turned back to Spencer and his smile warmed a little more. "Y'r looking gorgeous tonight, cher."

Color warmed Spencer's cheeks. "Thank you."

"Are y' ready, den?"

"Mm hm. Just need to grab my coat."

They stopped off at the closet by the door and Spencer pulled out a black pea coat. It charmed him completely when Remy took the jacket from him and held it out, helping him into it. The gesture was old fashioned and it had Spencer smiling. Once he'd buttoned himself in, Spencer led Remy over to the door, but something stuck at him. Something that he couldn't quite resist asking. Hand on the doorknob, he turned enough to tilt his head and look up at Remy. He found the Cajun just watching him with a curious look. "I don't understand you." Spencer murmured, not really thinking about his words.

"What do y' mean?"

"You haven't asked. You haven't even looked like you've thought of asking."

The curiosity on Remy's face turned to confusion. "About what, cher?"

About…about what? Was he serious? "About me. About the way I dressed that night and how I looked coming home today and how I look now. You haven't even looked confused by it."

"Oh." Pausing, Remy shrugged one shoulder. "Why would I?"

"Because everyone does. Even people that I've met at Stardust. Everyone, at some point or another, asks what I am. Or why I look so different one night to the next."

"I aint dat fond of labels, me." Remy told him. "I know em, I just aint fond of dem. I don't care what label y' slap on y'rself, or what label someone else slaps on y'. Y' are who y' are, Spencer, and I happen to enjoy who y' are. What's it matter to me what de term is? I don't care of y'r transgender, androgynous, gender fluid—it don't matter. Y' wanna know what matters to me?" He leaned in now, bending his head just enough that his sunglasses slid and Spencer could see his eyes. The red in them gave the illusion of glowing and Spencer found he couldn't look away even as Remy's warm voice wove intimately around them. "What matters is y', an it's y' dat I like. Y'r a smart and funny person. Y' got a smile dat lights up de whole room and dis blush dat drives me absolutely crazy. Y'r nice, sweet, and absolutely gorgeous, an I'm happy to be here. De only care I got about y'r gender identity is making sure I'm talking to y' right and not offending y' an I seem to be doing fine so far, _non_?"

The lump in Spencer's throat made it too hard to speak. He had to settle for nodding. How on earth had he managed to find someone so damn perfect? No one was _ever_ that relaxed about things. People always ended up having questions. Often enough, people felt they could guide him, too, helping him 'find himself' and make that 'choice' between male and female, or to choose neither. Remy was the first person Spencer had ever gone on a date with that seemed totally satisfied with him being both. Clearing his throat, because this was too important to just be silent about, he finally managed to speak. "You're fine. I've always used the masculine pronouns. I don't really identify in one direction or the other. I feel, both. It's just that the things I like vary towards one end of the spectrum or the other depending on where I am, what I'm doing, or other things like that. You…you really don't care?"

"Spencer, I wouldn't have cared if y'd stayed in y'r work clothes, or if y'd decided to put on a little black dress an heels. Which, by de way, is an absolutely delicious image, I hope y' know." He threw that out with a smirk and a wink that helped to break some of the tension. Reaching out, he caught Spencer's hand and folded it between both of his. "I like de outside package, cher, dere's no denying dat, _mais_ de important part is what's inside, and I'm liking dat a whole hell of a lot. Dat's de part I want to get to know tonight. _D'accord_?"

"Okay." Spencer said softly. His smile was back in place and he felt his cheeks warming with his blush, yet he didn't look away. For the first time that night he let himself finally let go of the last of his nerves and just relax.

Remy must've noticed it because he relaxed a little too. The tension drained out of him and he pulled Spencer's hand up, kissing his knuckles once more. "I'm really glad y' decided to come out wit' me tonight, Spencer."

"Me too, Remy. Me too."


	10. Courting

_Gender-fluid Spencer has just proved too much fun. Think it's time I moved them to their own story? Here's another little clip. "Courtship"_

* * *

"Well what's going on here?" Derek Morgan asked as he walked alongside Spencer into the bullpen. The two of them were just returning from their lunch break. With no current case and just paperwork to deal with, they'd gone out to a nearby deli to grab their lunch, something the two friends liked to do on occasion. It was one of those random moments where they left behind the others on the team and just kind of hung out a little, the two of them. Derek jokingly called it the time where he got to check in on his adoptive baby brother and make sure all was well in his world. Usually, Spencer just rolled his eyes at that.

It took only a second for Spencer to see what had caught Derek's attention. There was a small crowd of people standing around—Spencer's desk. What were they doing there? Curious, he quickened his steps a little.

As soon as they got close and the people saw them coming, the small crowd parted enough for Spencer to see what it was that had caught their attention. There on Spencer's desk sat an absolutely gorgeous bouquet of flowers. Mixed flowers, of all types and colors, in a wooden rectangular vase colored in dark mahogany that Spencer could already tell would fit in perfectly with the other bits of furniture and such in his living room. The person who'd picked this had obviously put some kind of thought into it. Not that there was any doubt in Spencer's mind who had done this. Only one person would be sending him flowers.

"Would you look at that." Derek said, startling Spencer and reminding him that his friend was by his side. "Someone's sent you flowers, Reid. Have you got yourself a special someone and you haven't even told me?"

Spencer blushed at that, but he didn't deny it. His lips were curving into a smile even through his embarrassment as he walked right up to his desk and looked down at the beautiful bouquet. _Flowers_. Remy had sent him flowers. That thought left Spencer ridiculously pleased. So much so that he didn't even get upset when he heard someone ask "Isn't the guy supposed to send the girl flowers, not the other way around?" All he did in response to that was blush even deeper.

Bless his friends; Emily stepped up towards him then, gesturing with her hands towards the others. "All right, everyone, back off. Show's over here."

"She's right." Derek backed her up, his presence just a little more intimidating to those that wanted to stick around. "Let the man appreciate his flowers in peace." While Derek would undoubtedly tease Spencer over this, there was no way he was going to let anyone else.

Everyone started to clear away then, leaving just Spencer, Derek and Emily. How it was that Penelope wasn't out here yet, Spencer didn't know. She'd make her way out soon enough. Of that he had no doubt. There was no way she'd be able to resist. For now, he didn't worry about it, focusing on the flowers and the small card that hung from them. Picking it up, he slid it from the envelope and quickly read the scrawling script there. _The weekend cannot come soon enough. Counting the hours until I see you again – Remy_. It was short, slightly cheesy, and yet it was the sweetest thing Spencer had ever gotten. This had been the very last thing he'd expected! He and Remy had been on three dates now—four, if you counted that first night at the club—and Spencer found himself falling just a little harder each time they got together. They'd gone out to eat, out to the theater, even out on an afternoon date through the Smithsonian, and through all of that, Remy had been surprisingly gentlemanly. When Spencer had shyly commented on the fact that Remy hadn't pressed for more than a few kisses, which most men would've definitely been pressing for more by now, Remy had smiled and kissed him until he could barely think before breaking away and telling him "I'm lookin' fo' more dan a quick roll in de hay, Spencer. Someone like y', it's worth taking y'r time and doing it proper. Y' deserve it."

How was he expected to resist something like that? So, Spencer was letting him do it 'proper'. He was being courted and it was the most amazing feeling.

When Remy had told him that he had to go back to New York for a bit, he hadn't given Spencer time to be disappointed but had quickly made a date for the coming weekend, insisting that it was worth the train ride out here and back. He wouldn't tell Spencer what he had planned, just promised that it would be fun. Oddly enough, Spencer found he trusted him.

These flowers, though, they were a touch he hadn't expected. Nor had he expected just how much he'd enjoy them. Traditionally, he knew that this was one of those things that, as a man, he shouldn't like so much. He didn't care. Sitting down at his desk, he gave in to the urge and buried his face in the flowers, drawing in the delicious scent that came from them.

"Those are so beautiful, Reid." Emily told him. She bumped her hip against him, a silent show of support that had Spencer smiling up at her.

"Who's the lucky lady?" Derek teased him, moving to sit on the edge of Spencer's desk.

Spencer was abruptly glad that he'd pocketed the card. He wasn't quite ready to tell anyone about Remy. At least, anyone but Emily. Hopefully he could pass it off to Derek as their usual teasing and not clue the man in that he truly didn't want him to know. "Like I'd tell you. You'll tease me bad enough as it is." Spencer joked.

"Reid! I'm offended you think that!"

The snickers from both Spencer and Emily told Derek just how unbelievable his offended tone was. The older man broke into a grin and shook his head. "Fine, be that way. Keep your secret, for now. But don't think I won't find out." He turned his attention back to the bouquet and his smile softened just a little in a way that let Spencer know that his friend was honestly happy for him. "Whoever sent it picked a cheerful one. It's bright and colorful."

Fingering one of the tulips, Emily asked "Don't these all have meaning?"

Spencer ignored the low groan from Derek and immediately launched into what he knew of some of the flower meanings. "They do. The pink hydrangeas have many different meanings, but most people believe they mean 'you are the beat of my heart'. The peach roses are appreciation and thanks, while the pink are love and gratitude, generally. The orange Asiatic lilies are often associated with passion. Purple stock is symbolic of bonds of affection and lasting beauty."

"So whoever sent this is telling you that you're beautiful and they're in love with you?" Derek asked teasingly.

If Spencer blushed any harder, his cheeks were going to burn. He ducked his head down and ignored the laughter around him. None of it was enough to wipe away his smile, though. It stayed there through all of Derek's teasing, through even a few joking remarks from Emily—who knew far more here than Derek did. Nothing they said could wipe it away, nor could Derek convince Spencer to tell him just who they were from. Eventually the other two went back to their desks to go back to work and Spencer was left as close to alone as he could be in the bullpen. Tipping his head just a little, letting his hair curtain his face, he let himself just admire the flowers for a moment, enjoying the warm feeling it put in his heart. He'd never been courted like this before. Never been treated and spoiled. Who cared what others had to say? Let them tease.

Slipping his phone from his pocket, Spencer opened up his text messages and, after a small debate, sent off a quick one. _Thank you for the flowers. They're absolutely gorgeous._

It didn't take long for the reply to come in. _They reminded me of you. Glad you like them. - R_

For the rest of the afternoon, Spencer found himself smiling every time he looked up and saw the flowers sitting there, bright and cheerful on his desk.


	11. Untitled

_So this is a little weird. It's the first chapter of a story I found on my computer that was made back in 2012 and hasn't been touched since then. It's got 122 pages on it, though the ending isn't there. I'm not sure if I should just laugh at it, or if I should take the time to read through it and fix it up. Let me know what you think!_

_A rather strange AU where Spencer was created and raised by someone he knows as 'Sir'. The Spencer that the BAU knows is a lie. Who he is, who he was, are nothing like what they know. The only reason that Spencer was there was that he had a job to do. Now he's been pulled from that job and sent on something new. Sir unlocked the binding that he put on Spencer's powers and is sending him to the X-Men under the guise of needing help while, in reality, he wants any information he can to be able to take them down. But will Spencer be able to give him that information? Or, after spending time with them, will he find that for the first time in his life he can't do what he's been ordered to do?_

* * *

Was there anything more miserable about this side of the country than its weather? Spencer cursed the East Coast weather as he continued to make his way along a bare stretch of road. It had been cold enough when he'd started his walk; the rain that had come since then had only made things worse. Now he was drenched down to his skin _and_ shivering. As thunder clapped overhead and lightning arced in the sky, he started to curse out loud. "Bullshit, that's what this is. Bullshit." Another shiver had him crossing his arms over his chest and stuffing his hands in his armpits. He wanted nothing more than to be in some warm hotel room, watching the rain from the warmth of the room, maybe sneaking out onto the balcony for a moment to enjoy the lighting storm. But no, he was out here on this dark, empty road, walking to a place he didn't want to be, assigned with a job he didn't want to have to do.

Want didn't factor in to this. Needs didn't factor in. Sir had tasked him with this assignment and who was Spencer to think of disobeying?

Spencer had been with Sir for as long as he could remember. Even when he'd been allowed to live with other people, to attempt to have a family, he'd still been Sir's property and he was never allowed to forget that. The product of three strong mutants, bred in a clinical setting under direct supervision of Sir, Spencer was born of a test tube and implanted into a woman of Sir's choosing. And since the day he was born, he was never allowed to forget that he wasn't human like the rest of the world. He wasn't even a mutant as others were. No, he was a _creation_. Non-human. A science experiment. And he belonged to Sir the same as the lab equipment.

He'd been raised to be the perfect tool for his Sir. He had a high intelligence, multiple degrees and doctorates, was proficient in many languages and the accents that went with them, and quite talented in not only hand to hand combat, but weaponry as well, and all of that was before his mutation was factored in.

Could it accurately be called a mutation in a being that was non-human and had been specifically bred for this ability? Spencer pondered that for a few minutes as a way to distract himself from the freezing rain. Sir had bred together these powerful mutants to attempt to get a powerful offspring. Spencer was the only one that he had kept alive once his powers had manifested. He was Omega class, Sir told him. At his full potential, he would be able to destroy half the country with but a thought, Sir said. And what was it that he could control that was so dangerous?

Lightning flashed overhead and had Spencer smiling slightly. His skin tingled in response to the electrical display even as it was dulled down by the water falling from the sky. He had to resist the urge to reach out to that lightning and channel the energy that he could feel. That was his main mutation; electrical control. He could absorb, conduct, create, generate and control electricity of various intensities. With a touch, he could control any objet through its electricity. He could shut down the power grid of an entire city with one finger.

There was also his healing ability, which Sir said was not technically a mutation but more a part of the electricity inside of his body working to keep it from killing him when it was inside of him. But he did possess a secondary mutation that was strong, even if it wasn't as strong as his offensive power. He was an empath. That, out of everything, had created the most trouble for him. Sir had never blocked any part of that power for Spencer, not overly concerned with the effect of emotions on him except to add them to his observations. However, he did teach Spencer how to shield his mind, using that shield to keep the emotions at bay so that they didn't overwhelm him. At least, nowhere near as much as they had used to.

Sir _had_ shielded his mind, however, so that Spencer never fully used his electrical power. While on his last assignment, Sir had kept that shielding on, preventing Spencer from being able to create anything more than simple currents. But once he'd pulled him from that assignment and sent him on this one, his mental blocks had slowly been dissolving, Sir had taught him only enough to keep the charge off his skin. Granted, there were still times that Spencer couldn't keep it off his hands when his emotions got the best of him, but that was what he had these gloves for. Rubber insulated gloves with their leather outside kept him from conducting electricity with his hands and from absorbing it into him.

It was a good thing Sir had helped him learn to keep it off his skin, or Spencer never would have made it from Virginia to New York. He'd had to leave behind pretty much everything but a bit of money when he left his last place, which meant that he hadn't had a car. A train had brought him a bit of the ways and hitchhiking had brought him the rest. There was no way he would've been able to ride with anyone if he hadn't been able to keep the charge off his skin. There would've been a whole lot of walking, then. Luckily, that wasn't the case, and he'd had a ride most of the way. This last car had dropped him off not far from his destination, refusing to drive any closer, and Spencer had finally had no choice but to walk.

Not that his clothes were exactly conducive to walking. In the rain. At night. But, a person does what they have to, right?

A stone caught Spencer's heel, almost rolling his ankle. He cursed as he stumbled. Just barely he managed to keep from falling to the ground. "Dammit!" he snapped. Looking down, he kicked at the offending rock, not feeling the least bit better. Maybe a person did what they had to, but it didn't mean that they had to like it. He looked down at his boots with their thick heel and resisted the urge to sigh. They were perfect for strolling at night, keeping his feet comfortable for hours standing on a corner or in a quick run from the cops, but they didn't exactly lend themselves to long walks on the side of a dark road.

Sir had been very specific on the image he'd wanted Spencer to project here. He wanted Spencer to look young, like someone on the streets who'd had to rely on his wit and his body to get by. Well, this outfit sure did it. The tight, low slung jeans were even tighter than normal from the rain plastering them to his skin. The A-shirt he wore didn't offer much in the way of warmth or protection and he had no jacket to put on over it. The leather bracelet around his wrist felt like it was made of ice; leather did not hold heat well. Even his Fedora was more for looks than practicality. It did nothing to keep him dry, although it did shelter his face just enough to keep his sunglasses semi dry, allowing him to still see. But every bit of him was cold and wet—even the rucksack over his shoulder with his few meager possessions was soaked. The clothes were what he usually wore when 'working' at night because they showed off his frame in its best light. He was tall, but the heels made him taller. His body was long and lean, mostly angles and pale skin. He'd never been able to put any kind of weight on whatsoever and countless times being on the streets and starving when Sir threw him out to fend for himself had put a sort of starved look to parts of him that never seemed to fully go away.

But he was still considered attractive. No matter how much sunshine he went in, he still maintained mostly pale skin—smooth as a baby's, he'd been told. Chestnut hair hung to his shoulders with little flips and curls at the ends, framing a face that could draw eyes with the right help. He had naturally high cheekbones and wide eyes and a mouth that people often told him was just begging to be kissed. Usually he worse sunglasses, sheltering his eyes so that they weren't seen. While on his last assignment, Sir had given him contacts to hide the fact that Spencer's eyes were pure white—a sign, Sir said, that he wasn't human. He was soulless. The only time his eyes had color was when he was embracing his electrical powers. Then, he'd been told lightning seemed to spark inside of them.

Lifting one hand, he sheltered those eyes, trying to see through the pouring rain to gauge how close he was to his destination. When lighting lit the sky once more, he caught a vague glimpse of the mansion in the distance, still a ways away. But it was there. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Home of the X-Men. And the place of his next assignment.

"You are to go to Xavier's school." Sir had told him before he'd sent him on his way. Gaze raptor sharp, he'd stared at Spencer, making sure he understood. "I want you to infiltrate the school and the X-Men. Become one of them by any means necessary. While there, I want you to gather intelligence on its members, the school, and their technology. Everything that you can so that we can assess their threat level and deal with them accordingly if it becomes necessary. You are not to tell them that you work for me, but the rest of what you tell them is up to you. You will go there under the guise of a young mutant needing help controlling his powers. This at least will not be a lie. I will check in with you every other night for a week to see if you have arrived there safely."

Only half of his time limit had gone by so far. It had taken a full day to extract himself from his previous assignment. He'd had to do tons of paperwork to officially end his stay as SSA Dr. Spencer Reid, Profiler for the FBI. They had been loath to lose him and his team had most definitely tried to stop him. But he'd told them that he was leaving and there had been nothing that was going to stop him. Once the paperwork was done and he once more became simply Dr. Spencer Reid, he'd sold the items in his 'apartment'—a cover maintained solely for the assignment—and he'd canceled the lease. Then he'd left to start his new assignment. Infiltrate the X-Men and report back to Sir. By far, one of his easier assignments. Gathering information wasn't hard for him. It would be gaining the trust of the team enough to be allowed to 'become' one of the X-Men that was going to be difficult. More than that, learning to control his powers would be difficult. Sir dissolving his shields and leaving him exposed to the full extent of his capabilities had guaranteed that he would actually need their help, lending credence to his story, but it left him susceptible to his powers as well. He knew Sir wouldn't have cared about that.

A sudden glare of lights hit the road in front of Spencer. A vehicle came around the corner behind him, their headlights lighting the way. Because of the corner, they didn't see Spencer until they were practically on top of him. The young doctor dodged to the side, his ankle finally wrenching as he stumbled off the road and onto the uneven ground. His hands darted out, just barely managing to catch him before he would have face planted on the ground. Pain exploded in his left ankle.

The air filled with the sound of squealing brakes. When Spencer was back on his feet, he saw the car had skidded to a stop a few feet ahead of him. Even knowing that it wasn't the driver's fault, Spencer still glared at the figures that came rushing over at him, mouth open to snap and snarl at them. His words died an early death in his mouth when he caught sight of those coming at him.

One of the men was large—big enough that he could probably snap Spencer with one hand, despite being quite a bit shorter than him. There was something about him that just screamed dangerous to Spencer's instincts. He'd learned to trust those instincts a long time ago.

The other one was Spencer's height, even with these heels, and he was built more compact than the muscular man with him. Not as lean as Spencer, but lean still. There was obvious muscle in that slender form. There was also something about him that set off Spencer's instincts. The man may have looked smaller than his friend—and definitely much hotter—but he was just as dangerous. Spencer couldn't help bracing his body in preparation for whatever they might do. He thought vaguely of his knives and if he'd be able to get to them in time to defend himself.

"Jesus shit, kid, are you ok?" The bigger man said. He moved right toward him, stopping suddenly when Spencer took an instinctive step back.

The other man stopped beside his friend. "Did y' get hurt, _homme_? Look at y'! Wolvie, he's soaked t' de skin!" The thick Cajun accent gave the words a warm sound that part of Spencer ached to respond to.

The large man glared at his friend. "Quit calling me Wolvie." He snapped before looking to Spencer again. "What're you doing walking on this road so late at night and in the rain, kid? Is there somewhere we can take you? A place we can drop you off?"

Spencer finally seemed to find his voice in the onslaught of questions. "I'm on my way to Xavier's school." Maybe, if he was lucky, these two were going that way. There didn't seem to be anything else in the distance. The idea of getting a ride and not having to walk the rest of the distance had him wanting to beg and plead. He was cold, tired, and now his ankle was throbbing in tune with his heartbeat.

The two men exchanged a look before they gestured toward the car. "Come on, _homme_." The Cajun called over the sound of more thunder. "We'll take y' dere."

It took effort for Spencer to grit his teeth and force himself to start moving. His ankle was screaming now that he was walking on it and he had to fight not to collapse, but he made it to their car and gratefully climbed in through the door the Cajun held open for him, putting his wet bag down between his knees as he sat. It wasn't until he was inside and the door was shut that he realized that they'd put him in the front passenger's seat with the big guy driving. Fear clenched in his stomach, ruthlessly shoved down.

When the car turned on, the heaters kicked on as well, almost making him moan. He couldn't stop himself from leaning toward his vent, his shivering body trying to absorb as much heat as possible. The big guy noticed and cursed suddenly. He yanked his jacket off even as he started driving down the road, tossing it to Spencer once he was free of it. "Here, wrap up in this. You're soaked straight through and you've barely got any excuse for clothes on. How long you been walking out there?"

Spencer gratefully stuffed his arms in the coat, pulling it close. It was wet from them coming out in the rain to get him, but it still held the man's body heat and it felt wonderful. Glancing at the clock in the dash, Spencer calculated the time that had passed since he'd been dropped off by the last person he'd hitchhiked with. "I got dropped off on the road about two hours ago." He finally answered. "Been walking since then."

"Two hours in dis?" The Cajun said with what sounded like sympathy. "_Mais_, no wonder y'r soaked. Y' shoulda found somewhere t' hole up fo' de night, _homme_. Weather like dis aint de best t' be walking round in."

"Found that out." Spencer stammered out. He saw the mansion coming closer and closer; the guy was driving fast.

Leaning forward, the Cajun stuck his head between the seats and looked over at Spencer. "M' name's Remy, _mon ami_, and dis be Logan. Are y' sure y'r ok? We didn't hurt y', did we? Didn't see y' till we got round de corner."

"I'm fine, thanks." Biting his lip, he looked from one to the other. They'd probably expect his name now. Well, he'd give them something. "They call me _Inanime_."

Logan shot him a look right as they pulled up to the mansion's gate. "That don't sound like a regular name."

For a brief second Spencer felt a pang in his heart, there and gone again in a flash. "It's not." He said simply. Long ago he'd grown used to that name. Watching them, he saw the man punch in a code for the gate quickly and realized that he'd been right, these two had been heading here. He said nothing on it as the car made its way up the driveway and into the garage. Only once the car was off did Spencer speak up again. "Thank you." He told them, starting to take Logan's jacket off to hand it to him.

Logan held his hand out and shook his head. "Keep it on for a bit till we find you a place to get warmed up. Come on, kid. We'll get you inside and see what we can do for you."

He couldn't help but give them a strange look as they all climbed from the car. "You two don't seem too surprised to have a stranger showing up in the middle of the night." He pointed out with more bravery than he felt. No matter that he'd developed a hard outer shell, being around people still made him terrified on the inside. He'd just become a pro at shielding it away so that no one knew. When you let others know you were scared, it only handed them a weapon.

Remy flashed him a grin as he shut his door. "Dat's not unusual round dese parts, _homme_. We learned t' get used t' dat long time ago. Now, let's go find de Professor."

"He or Jean probably already sensed us coming, Gumbo. Wouldn't surprise me if we've got a welcoming committee inside." Logan called to him.

For a bit Spencer managed to follow them even with his pained ankle. They went out of the garage and through the rain to the front door. But when he had to take those few steps up the porch and had to put all his weight on that ankle, it finally had enough and started to collapse underneath him, wringing a sharp hiss past his lips. He startled when hands grabbed him, catching him before he could hit the ground. First instinct was to yank away. But a glance showed him it was simply Remy trying to help him stay upright. The Cajun was looking at him with concern over the top of his sunglasses, letting Spencer see the red on black eyes that the glasses had hidden before. This man was a mutant. He barely had time to log that away before he was being cursed at in Cajun. "Y' said y' wasn't hurt! _Couillon_!"

"It's nothing." Spencer instantly defended. Habit had him trying to minimize his injury in any way possible. _No weakness_. "I'm fine."

"Oh, are y'? Den just walk right on in dere if y'r so _fine_."

Too used to commands like this, Spencer missed the sarcasm and simply took the words as an order. He pulled himself away from Remy's hands and forced himself as hard as could be so that he could take that last step up. It hurt, like sharp knives stabbing into his skin, but he managed to do it and to start toward the door with only a minimal limp. He'd only made it just two steps before Remy was back at his side, grabbing his arm and ducking underneath it. His voice was so much gentler this time as he said. "Stubborn lil shit. Can feel y'r pain, _mon ami_. Didn't mean fo' y' to really walk on y'r own. Not cruel, me. We'll get y' in and den we'll get Henri t' look at y'. He's our doctor."

Logan opened the door, holding it wide so that Remy and Spencer could limp inside. As Logan had predicted, they were met by a welcoming committee. There was a woman with dark skin and white hair that was watching them with a look that transformed to surprise. There was also a red haired beauty that was practically radiating concern and a slight trace of suspicion. From the basic descriptions that Sir had given him, those had to be Storm and the Phoenix, or Ororo and Jean.

The other one present was one that Spencer recognized from what Sir had told him. Cyclops, aka Scott, with his sunglasses on that controlled the optic blast in his eyes when he wasn't wearing his battle visor. Scott took one look at them and shot forward on a curse, quickly getting himself underneath Spencer's other arm, either oblivious to the boy's flinch or ignoring it. "What the hell did you two do to him?" he demanded of the two.

"T'ink he rolled his ankle." Remy explained in a calm voice. "Went round de corner and didn't see him walking. He jumped outta de way, but t'ink he might've rolled it as he went, yeah."

"I'll call for Hank." Jean said quickly. "In the meantime, let's get you in Scott's office. You are absolutely soaked through, all of you. The professor will meet us there momentarily."

So it was that Spencer found himself inside the mansion of the X-Men, with two of them helping him limp his way down the hall. He was dripping wet, injured, and being watched with quite a bit of suspicion, but he was in. Now it was time to get to work.


	12. Red Room

_"Amnesia Spencer"_

* * *

There was so much blood. That was the first clear thought he had as he opened his eyes. Blood was everywhere. The floors, the walls, the door. When he brought his hands forward, pressing them into the ground, pushing to try and lift himself, he saw it was all over him too. Blood was all over his skin. He could smell the copper tang of it in the air. As he woke a little more and a little more, he could feel the slickness of it coating him. What the hell was going on? What had happened here? The young man's arms shook and he fell with a thud that sent pain racing through every inch of him and jerked his brain to a startling clarity. A hoarse cry slid up his throat only to be ruthlessly choked off. Something in him demanded he not let it free. _Don't scream. Don't let them hear you scream. Don't let them win like that. Don't scream._ Let who hear him? Let who win? Who was 'them'? Who were they?

His eyes drifted open again, blinking to clear away the pain of the light. Who knew blood was so reflective? Who knew it could be so blinding? It took a long moment to blink past it before he could see enough. That was when he saw another body, not far from his own. Just barely he could see the form enough through all that blood to see that it was a woman and she was as naked as he was. Something in him stirred to life and he found his body moving, limbs pulling across the slick floor. He slipped and slid and fell over and over but he didn't stop. He had to reach her. _Why? Who is she? What's going on here?_ He had no idea; he just knew that he had to get to her. But when he did, when he saw her face, when he saw the long gashes on her arms and across her throat, he knew it had been pointless. She was gone. Tears gathered in his eyes, sliding down his cheeks. _No. No, don't let her be gone. No! I was supposed to protect her_. Wait…who was she? Who was this woman? It was almost there, a faint echo in his mind. Then, the thought faded like smoke and there was nothing but the heartache at this loss of life. Grief swamped him for this woman. Bending, he bowed his head over her, his tears flowing faster.

Slowly the grief inside pushed back down to a manageable level. As it did, it left room for other things to be noticed. Pain brought the young man's attention back to his own body. He hurt _everywhere_. But more than that, more important than any of it, was this growing urgency inside of him. This small voice that was getting louder with each passing second. A voice that was screaming at him—_Get out of here! Get out, get out, get out! Get out now, before they come back! Go, run! NOW!_ The voice was stronger now, demanding, overpowering every other urge. Everything else quickly became unimportant beside the need to get out of this place.

When he turned his body, seeking out a door, he saw two more bodies lying on the far side of the room. Instead of needing to go to them as he had with the girl, the sight of these two only fueled that screaming need to get far, far away. Grief was replaced with overwhelming terror. He couldn't even bring himself to move towards them to check if they were still alive. The idea of moving towards them had his heart racing and had him gasping for air. The young man barely noticed his own injuries as he scrabbled across the floor towards the door and away from the bodies. His only focus was on getting to that cracked open door. _Go, go, go, faster! Faster! Get out of here, now! _His body obeyed the screams of his mind and he moved faster and faster until he was at the door. _Almost free! _A sob threatened to slip past his lips, choked back by sheer will. He grabbed at the door and used it to pull himself up to his feet.

How he got upright and through the next room, he would never know. The voice inside was screaming so loudly that he couldn't deny it. Yet it was as if his brain blanked out. One moment he was dragging himself out of the brightly red room and into a darkened hallway. The next, he was stumbling through a darker room and out another door and suddenly he found himself outside in some dark forest area and he was running, moving as fast as his shaking legs would take him. Behind him was the hell he'd just escaped; ahead of him, he had no idea. All he knew was that he had to run.

Run he did. Time and time again he stumbled in the dark, occasionally falling to the hard forest ground only to pick himself back up and run again. What he was running from, he couldn't have said. All he knew was that he had to go as fast and as far as he could.

Up ahead he could hear something, a sound that didn't fit into the forest night, and he steered himself towards it and prayed that it would be some kind of help.

The trees broke suddenly and the young man stumbled as he was thrust out into the open. He couldn't stop his body from hitting the ground and a cry rose up as he connected with something flat and hard. _Pavement._ Another sound drowned out his cry, a screech of tires on pavement, the roar of an engine passing right by him, and then the squeal of brakes before the night went silent. The young man tried to push up off the ground when he heard a car door and someone rushing towards him. But his body, pushed too long and too hard, having gone through far too much tonight, had no more strength left to give. He vaguely registered a person kneeling down at his side. "Son of a bitch." Someone growled in a deep, gravelly voice. "Jesus, kid. What the hell happened to you?"

He managed to make himself whisper two words before the blackness in his vision finally sucked him under.

_"__Help me."_

* * *

The world felt as if it were made up of fire. It was all around him, inside of him, burning him apart. Was this hell? Had he finally died and gone to hell? The last thing he remembered was running, running, don't stop, can't stop, got to run! Now, now there was pain and fire. His skin felt so tight, as if it were stretched over his body almost to the breaking point. Soon it was going to crack and tear and the fire inside would burst free. A wave of pain rolled through him and he couldn't stop the pained sound that bubbled up in his throat. _Please, make it stop, I'm so sorry! Make it stop!_

Something touched his face and he couldn't stop the way his whole body jerked. Immediately he tried to move away but his body was too sore, too spent, to do more than twitch lightly. Panic built and another moan slipped out. Then he heard something, a deep voice just barely there. "Hey, kid, calm down now." That voice…he'd heard it before, hadn't he? When he'd been by the road. It was warm and kind, soothing him down even before he realized it. "You've got a fever. We gotta get this down. I aint gonna hurt ya, I'm just trying to help. But I need you to calm down and hold still."

Like there was any choice in the matter? His body felt utterly drained. He doubted he could move if his life depended on it.

The voice washed over him, something to cling to in this pain, and he felt something cool wiping over his cheek. "That's it, kid. Just calm down. You've got a nasty fever, but you're gonna be fine."

The heat was building again and exhaustion was taking over. The warm voice was fading, getting further away. Slowly the exhaustion dragged him back down into the darkness and the blessed relief that he found there.

* * *

This time, when the young man woke, the world around him was a little easier to understand. There wasn't the great burning heat inside of him, though the pain was still there. Pain, he could handle. He had learned to live with pain. So many different parts of his body ached. Little by little his mind and body woke. As they did, he grew aware of his surroundings. He was lying on something soft—a bed, his brain supplied—in a room he didn't recognize. Where was he? And what the hell had happened to him? Slowly he blinked his eyes open, flinching at the bright light that blinded his eyes. Pain stabbed at them like white hot pokers and he slammed his eyes shut once more. One hand tried to lift, to block the light or rub at his head or anything to make the pain stop, but he found he didn't even have the strength to lift that hand. He got it only inches off the bed before it weakly dropped back down.

Panic started to build. What had happened to him? Why was it so hard to move? Instinct took over and his brain started an immediate mental inventory. All of his limbs moved, though it was hard to do. Not restrained though. Just, weak. He felt weak as a newborn. His stomach hurt in a way that told him there was damage to his ribs. There were random patches that throbbed and ached like they were bruised. As if his body had been given one hell of a beating. His throat felt raw and swollen and so very dry.

_Okay, okay, no serious injuries. Next thing to figure out – what is going on here? What happened to me?_ His brain was fully awake now and he tried to think back, to see if he could remember what had happened. Something that left him injured like this, he should be able to remember it, right? But…he couldn't. Searching his mind produced nothing. _No need to panic. Maybe you're just not thinking clearly yet. Sometimes a person can blank out an event that causes serious physical trauma. Think back. What's the last thing you remember? _Okay, the last thing he could remember was…was that red room. Oh, God, the red room, the blood, _the woman_. No, no, no, he didn't want to think about that. _Something else, anything else. Anything before that._ But even as he shied away from that image and tried to think further back, his mind drew a blank. There was nothing. He couldn't seem to remember anything. Not where he'd been, not what he was doing, nothing. Something tight started to squeeze at his chest. _All right, let's start easier. Name. My name is, is…Spencer. Spencer…_ Oh, God. Spencer what? What was his last name? His breath shuddered in and out of him and he tried to pull up a mental image of himself. That should be easy, right? Wrong. The panic grew stronger. Dammit, he couldn't even picture his own hair color! What color was his hair?

He recognized the feeling in his chest as the start of a panic attack. How much had he forgotten? How much was a blank in his mind? He could remember what the color blue looked like. A sunrise. Those memories popped up in his mind easily. But if he could remember those, why couldn't he remember his own last name? Or what he had been doing earlier? Or why was he so beat up? His panic grew higher.

The sound of footsteps alerted him someone was coming and Spencer's body reacted without thought. Despite the bright light, his eyes shot open again, scanning the room around him for any threat, bringing with it the realization that he was somehow in a motel room. Every muscle locked down tight as if in preparation to jump out of the bed and run. That one thought came through clear in his mind amidst the sudden terror that flared up—_Run, run, need to run! Don't let them get you! Don't let them get you! Run, run, runrunrunrunrun!_

He'd barely started to move his aching body when the door to the side of the room opened and someone came rushing out. That sight was enough to send Spencer into a full blown panic attack. The man that burst into the room seemed larger than life. Dressed only in a pair of boxers, it was easy to see the muscles in a body that Spencer knew could easily overpower his own. More terrifying than that, though, were the man's hands. From the end of each hand protruded three long, metal claws. Those hands were held out to either side as if in preparation to fight. Spencer couldn't stop the terrified gasp that broke free. With every bit of strength he possessed, he pushed the blankets off of him and tried to dive for the edge of the side of the bed opposite this man. The pain in his body multiplied as he practically fell out of bed. His body was just too weak to get up and run. The best he could do was scramble towards the corner. There, he curled his body into a ball, hands coming up to cover his head, making as small a target as possible. _Not again, please! I can't do this again! I don't want to go back. I can't! I can't go back there!_

Through the panic he heard a voice call out to him. "Hey, kid, calm down. It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? Just calm down."

That voice! Spencer latched onto it. It was the voice from the road, the one from his fever dreams. That was the voice of the man who'd talked so kindly to him while his body had been burning with fever. The one that went with the hands that had tried to help cool him down. The guy that went with that voice had taken care of him. His touch had been kind, not painful. That voice belonged to this guy?

"Hey." The voice was closer now. Deeper, too, like he was worried about something. "It's okay, I aint gonna hurt ya. You're safe here, you hear me?"

Spencer's heart was slowing back down and his breathing started to even back out. There was something soothing about that voice. It relaxed him, helping to push the terror down. The words were meaningless, really, washing over him without really registering anymore. It was the voice itself and the caring behind it that he focused on. Those helped push down his panic until he once more had it under control. _This guy hasn't hurt you so far. He got you off the road and apparently helped you through a fever. Right now, he's the safest bet if you want to figure out where you are and what's going on._ With that pep talk, Spencer shifted a little and peeked out between his arms to try and see the man that was still calmly talking to him.

The guy noticed his movement and stopped his reassuring murmurs to smile at him. "That's it. Hey there, kid."

He licked lips that felt cracked and dry and he tried to gather enough moisture to make his throat work. "Hey." He croaked out.

"Why don't you let me help you back on up to bed? Doubt the floor's that comfortable." The guy offered.

The idea of hands on him was enough to have Spencer's heart racing again. A low whimper slipped free before he got himself under control again. The last thing he wanted was to be touched! Just the idea was enough to have him starting to shake a little. Drawing his arms down to curl against his chest instead of over him, he shook his head vehemently. "I'm fine." _Please, please, don't touch me!_

If the guy was surprised at all, he didn't show it. He just nodded his head. Then he took a single step back and shifted down from his crouch to sit cross legged right there on the ground. With one hand he reached back and grabbed one of the blankets off of the bed. "At least wrap up in this. I can see ya shiverin' from here!"

Though he didn't move to take the blanket, he didn't stop the man from draping it over him, either. Once it was on and the man's hands had pulled back, Spencer let himself grab the edge and clutch it a little closer, beyond grateful for the warmth and protection. "Who are you?" He found the courage to ask.

"Name's Logan." He tipped his head and sharp blue eyes fixed on Spencer. "You jumped out in front of my truck. After you passed out, I got ya back here and cleaned ya up. There was a ton of blood on ya, kid, but no real bad open wounds. Least, not enough to bleed like that. Can ya tell me what happened?"

The panic was growing again. Something pushed in Spencer's mind, a pulse that throbbed worse than any migraine. He brought his hands up, shaking his head. He pushed that something away, fighting back the quick images that flashed through his mind. When he pushed them away, the headache faded. Then it was gone and there was nothing there anymore. No images, no something, no headache. Just a blankness that was chilling. "I don't know." He tried to think, tried to look back and figure out what had happened, but his mind was as empty as it had been earlier. He couldn't remember! "I don't know!"

"Hey, it's okay, kid. It's all right. We'll come back to that later, okay?" Logan suggested. "Why don't we start with something simple? Can ya tell me your name?"

That, he knew. "Spencer." _But why can I remember my first name and nothing else? Why is it that I know my first name but not my last? Why can't I remember anything that happened to me? Why can't I remember ANYTHING?_ His mouth trembled and, though he didn't know it, his eyes widened slightly, the lost look in them reaching out to Logan. "I don't know my last name. I c-can't remember anything else." He stammered out. "Why can't I remember anything else?"

Something passed over Logan's face, there and gone again before Spencer could recognize it. Their eyes locked and Spencer couldn't help but lean a little on the strength he saw there. When Logan's hand reached out and rested on Spencer's upturned knee, he still jumped, but nowhere near as hard as before. "Calm down, Spencer. Just take a deep breath. We're gonna figure this out." He gave a light squeeze to Spencer's knee before letting go. "For now, why don't we get you up in that bed? Your body needs to rest."

Right now there was nothing and no one in this world that Spencer remembered. He had no idea if he had any family, any friends, anyone at all looking for him. He had no clue who had hurt him or if they were going to come after him again. He didn't know any of that. But he knew that, right now, he needed to trust someone. Because he was alone, injured, and weak. There was no way he could defend himself or really do anything for himself in this condition. And if he was going to trust, who better than this man? Logan had rescued him and Spencer had vague, fever drenched memories of that voice murmuring soothingly to him that he was going to be okay, that he was safe. This man had rescued him and tended to him. Add on that really, he was the only person Spencer knew right now as well as the only person _here_, and there wasn't much of a choice.

Locking eyes with Logan, he took a deep breath and handed over one of the most fragile things he had. His trust. "Okay."


	13. What Happened To You?

_I want to apologize in advance, m'dears. I'm having a bad day, so my characters are as well. Here's a bit of heart stomping for you. Enjoy! You may find more up later, on A03. I have my "Collection of Ideas" over there as well, but these little ideas are more likely to be fleshed out over there and not posted as a whole story over here until they're done. Who knows. Anyways, read on!_

* * *

Out of all the shifts that he worked for security detail, Warren absolutely hated the middle of the night shift. It was, by far, the most boring of all the shifts. It was run from eleven pm until three am. During that time, pretty much everyone was asleep. Those that weren't asleep were out and only came home to go to their rooms and go to sleep. Nothing ever happened! Any nighttime attacks happened either early in the evening or early in the morning, so there wasn't even a large concern about a potential attack on the mansion. Someone had to be on guard, though, on the off chance that something _did_ happen.

Warren sat back in his chair and sighed. He couldn't stop himself from tapping his fingers on the countertop as his eyes scanned over the security monitors. Despite being bored and despite his dislike of the shift, he was still diligent in his duty. Even if he didn't even want to be here at the moment. No, he wanted to be out with the team on their current mission. Where exactly they'd gone, Warren wasn't sure. He'd just seen the others rushing to answer the Professor's call and he'd received a mental command to stay at his post, that the others were capable of handling it and that it wasn't extremely serious. So, Logan, Scott, Remy, Ororo and Jean had gone out together to take care of whatever was going on. Warren scowled at the monitors. He'd much rather be with them than here, even if it meant having to spend time around the annoying Gambit.

The monitor near the front gate suddenly caught Warren's eye. He could see a car pulling up toward the front gate. Someone must be coming home, then. He wondered who was out and about. The car wasn't immediately familiar. Absently he kept an eye on it at the same time as checking the other monitors. Nope, still nothing else. He focused back on the gate again. The car had stopped, as everyone did, but instead of reaching an arm out to input a security code, the driver's door opened.

The camera had Warren's full attention now. What on earth was this person doing? He watched him go around to the passenger's side of the car and open the door there. He leaned inside and—Warren wasn't sure, but he swore it looked like the guy's hand jerked, like he did _something _that was just out of sight and shrouded in the darkness. Whatever it was, the passenger was climbing out of the car now, stumbling a little like he'd had too much to drink. Had someone from the house gone out and gotten drunk and had to be drive home? Quickly he ran down a mental list of who it might be. The two walked up to the gate, one very obviously dragging the other along, and Warren found himself bracing, waiting for trouble, ready to raise an alarm if need be even though they'd done nothing to really suggest they were trouble. These two were both shrouded by black clothing. The driver was in pants, a jacket, and his hood was up against the light rain that was falling. The guy with him had on what looked like a long black cloak or robe, the hood pulled up over his head and hiding his face.

What happened next wasn't what he'd expected. The driver reached out, taking something from under the hood and then moving his hands to the gate. From the angle the camera sat, it was almost impossible to see. Warren reached out and clicked a few keys, adjusting camera angle. What the hell? Before he could get where he needed, the driver was turning around and walking away. He got directly back into his car and immediately started to back away.

Warren didn't bother waiting any longer. He took off from the security room, grabbing a communicator as he went. Bishop was out prowling the grounds and Warren didn't hesitate to call him for backup. "Hey, Bishop? We've got something strange at the front gate. I'm heading out there to check it out."

There was a pause before Bishop replied "I'll back you. On my way there now."

When he got outside, Warren spread his wings and flew down to the gate instead of walking, making the trip even shorter. He landed on the outside a few feet away from the gate, hands held at the ready, body braced. The car was long gone, but the one figure still stood by the gate, cloaked and hooded. On the other side of the gate, Warren saw Bishop coming forward, a gun at the ready in his hand. Good. Confident with that, Warren took a step forward and called out "Excuse me. Is there something I can help you with?"

No reply. Warren took another step forward. Okay, he'd try this again. "Excuse me. Can I help you?" He waited, but still no response. His body tensed just a little more in preparation. "Turn around and take your hood off. Let's see who you are, buddy. Move nice and slow, now."

Now, that got a response. Warren watched the man turn toward him slowly. One hand came out from the cloak to hold it together while the other slowly lifted toward the hood. Warren couldn't help but stare at that small expanse of skin that was revealed. The hand was very, very pale; more so when compared to the obvious markings on the wrist. He could clearly see bruising and what looked like dried blood on that wrist. A sick feeling was settling in Warren's stomach. He tried to prepare himself as the figure pushed the hood off. Absolutely nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

If he'd thought the wrist was marked, the head that was revealed was even worse. Half of the man's face was bruised it looked like, with a split across his cheek and one on his lip. The corners of that mouth were bruised as well and his nose looked slightly swollen. There was another bruise on the other side on his jawline. Around his neck was more of the dark bruising and, _fuck_, a suppression collar. A chain ran from the collar and was looped around a bar on the gate. Ratty brown hair hung around the face, looking as if it hadn't been washed in days.

The eyes that locked on Warren were wide, obviously terrified, hazy in that drugged sort of way, and so very familiar. Those eyes were what clued him in. They were what told him who was standing before him. The bruising on the face hid any potentially familiar features, mottling the man's face so that it wasn't recognizable. But the eyes gave him away—blue and purple with flecks of pink in them.

He couldn't believe it. Warren took a step forward, his mouth dropping open. Holy shit. "Spencer? Spencer Reid?" he asked in disbelief.

The marked mouth started to tremble. It looked like he tried to speak, but no words came out. Warren dropped his defensive pose, focusing totally on the young man. Any of the usual animosity he felt around Spencer, the fighting that seemed to flare up between them whenever they saw each other, it was gone. His voice was gentle when he closed the distance between them. "Spencer, it's Warren. Warren Worthington. Do you recognize me?"

Just as he got close, one hand lifting toward him, Spencer flinched so hard he stumbled back toward the gate. The minute his body connected with the gate, his legs seemed to give out or he tripped or something—the cloak blocked the view—because suddenly Spencer started to go down. But the chain on his collar was still wrapped around a pole on the gate and it jerked him up short, stopping him from hitting the ground, pulling a hoarse cry from him as it choked him.

Warren shot forward. He took hold of Spencer, straightening him back up, and couldn't believe how hard the man was trembling at his touch. It was as if he were going to have a seizure at Warren's closeness. Bishop had run forward as well and he was working now on unwrapping the, the _leash_ from the gate. Up close like this, Warren had no doubts. This was Spencer Reid. Son of a fucking bitch.

Close like this, he also saw more than he had before. The cloak had fallen open slightly, clearly showing Warren that the young man was wearing a pair of black cotton pants and a black tank top and nothing else. Nothing else but bruises and blood. What little skin Warren saw was marked with bruises in various stages of healing, their motley of colors seeming sickly against the otherwise pale skin.

"Call ahead to Hank." Warren ordered Bishop. "Tell him…tell him Spencer's here and he's hurt. Bad."

The dark man nodded as he finished unwrapping the leash. As soon as he was done, Warren gathered Spencer close, shushing him lightly when he heard the man whimper and mewl and tremble even harder. "Shh, Spencer, it's ok. We're going to get you help. You're safe now, you hear me? You're at the mansion and you're safe."

It was terrifying, exactly how light Spencer was. He barely weighed anything. Warren wrapped the cloak securely around him and then he was lifting off from the ground, his wings carrying them both straight to the mansion's front door. _What the hell happened to this kid?_ He wondered. _What the fucking hell happened?_


	14. The Undercover Job

"You have the right to say no, Reid. No one can force you to do this and it would be understood if you're not comfortable with this."

Aaron's words were steady and solid and his expression more serious than Spencer could ever remember seeing it when directed towards him. When his boss had called him into his office, Spencer hadn't known what to expect, but he was beginning to realize that whatever it was, it was very serious. Folding his hands in his lap, he tipped his head slightly to watch his boss's face. "I can't make that decision until I know what's being asked of me, Sir."

That earned him a brief nod from Aaron. He shuffled through some papers on his desk before picking up a folder and holding it out toward Spencer. "Have you heard the name Grayson Waters?"

It took a second of mental sifting for Spencer to place where he'd heard the name before. Opening the folder and looking at the first page, which carried a photo, helped him place it. "He's a smuggler. He started out as a low level drug smuggler before he managed to destroy some of his competition. In the span of a week, he became the main name in the business, though he managed to do so without having anything that could actually tie him directly to the work. Once he established his drug smuggling reputation, he moved on to gunrunning. Yet still he manages to keep himself clean, despite how big his name has become in the business. The Bureau's been trying to catch him for years."

"They may have discovered a way." Aaron leaned back in his chair and folded his hands, watching as Spencer read through the file he held which was a full packet of information on Grayson Waters. "The Bureau's been trying to think of a way to get close to him for months now. They've put a lot of hours and manpower into trying to find out the man's schedule, his likes and dislikes, everything that would give them a generically built profile. Then they took that profile and had Dave and I consult on it. It's accurate, as far as we can tell. Using that information, they've tried to get people close to him, only to have it fail time and time again. He either ignores their plant completely, not taking the bait, or he ferrets out the truth almost instantly. To be honest, no one's sure if he simply can read people well, if he's being informed, or if there's a chance he's a mutant with some power that lets him know."

"That's a possibility." Shifting to the last page, Spencer let his eyes drift over it, his words spoken almost absently. "He could be a telepath, or someone close to him could be. It's becoming increasingly popular for those in organized crime to hire mutants for their close staff because it allows them an extra level of control. It's almost a given that he has at least one mutant on his staff. Most assuredly they'll be in a position close to him, too."

"That is something we're considering. However, no one can get close enough to him to figure it out. So they came to the BAU, hoping that maybe a profiler would be able to help them get what they've failed at so far. They've met with the Unit Chiefs of the teams here and we've helped them build a slightly more accurate profile as well as offered suggestions as to who from our teams might be a good choice to try and get undercover. You ranked in the top five for that choice, Reid. You're actually our second choice."

Now that was enough to have Spencer's eyes snapping up from the file to lock on his boss. That hadn't been at all what he'd been expecting the man to say. He'd been sure they wanted assistance with their profile, or with gathering information or providing information. But they wanted him, undercover? He couldn't believe it. "Me, Sir?"

"You're an exceptional profiler, Reid, with benefits for field work like this that many others don't have. Not only do you have the capability to memorize any information you read so well that we know we can guarantee the information you give us is accurate, but you also have the benefit of being one of our best and most adaptable profilers."

"There are much better profilers than myself, Hotch. Those that have done undercover work, or specialize in crimes such as this. There are some that are experts in trafficking."

"True. But you don't give yourself enough credit, Reid. There's a reason I've jokingly introduced you as our expert in everything. You carry a wealth of knowledge in your head that could come in handy. And, I'm going to be brutally honest here. You have a benefit most of the others here do not—your appearance. I know it's been a problem for you here, that people look at you and they don't see an FBI agent. With the right clothes, you could easily look like a college student." Before Spencer could make any protest, Aaron held up his hand. "I don't want you to agree or disagree quite yet. You have the right to know what it is you're doing, first. Will you hear me out?"

After only a second's hesitation, Spencer nodded. Aaron was right. He had to know what they would be asking of him before he agreed or disagreed with this whole thing.

Aaron nodded back and then drew himself up slightly, preparing for what he was about to say. "I'm going to be blunt with all of this, Reid. It's the only way to do it. What the Bureau wants is to get someone close to Waters. Close enough to be able to help gather information, to bring us things that might help us to take him down. To do that, the person is going to need to be trusted. Now, putting someone on his staff has so far failed, because he doesn't even seem to trust his staff with the big things. Anything we've gained from staff members would only put Waters away for a short time. They want to bring him down for everything, not just for the small stuff. To do that, we need to get someone in close, someone that he trusts."

One small fact from the folder he'd just looked at came to the front of Spencer's mind. Suddenly a few things became very, very clear and Spencer's whole body went still as he processed that information. "You want to provide him with a significant other." He said the words slowly, his mind racing ahead with the possibilities of what this meant. "His file says he's single; a homosexual."

"With a preference for men in their early twenties that fit a physical type in which you match almost perfectly." Aaron said carefully.

"You want me to date him." Even saying the words sounded ludicrous. Spencer couldn't believe this. Were they really asking him to do this? "You want to make me into someone else and set me up to be picked up by him and have me use what we know and my own profiling skills to make myself his significant other so I can then turn around and hand him over to all of you."

"I know how distasteful it sounds. The Bureau wouldn't ask if they didn't believe this was the only way, Reid. And you and I know, even if the rest of the Bureau doesn't, that you have a unique _skill_ that will help you read the man and will help you to earn his trust."

The subtle reference to his empathy had Spencer wanting to wince. Had Aaron thought to the flip side of that? Sure, it would help him out by allowing him to read the man's emotions, allowing him to more than likely gain his trust just a little easier. However, it could backfire and he could find himself caring just a little too much about the other man. In the wrong situation, his empathy could be used as a weapon against him. Too many strong negative emotions at once could take him down or out completely.

With Spencer's continued silence, Aaron moved forward, giving him the rest of the information. He knew his young agent well enough to know that Spencer would need all facts before he'd be able to make any kind of decision. "Another distinction you have above others is your mind, Reid, and not in the usual sense. You've told us before that you know a very powerful telepath or two and that they cannot get past your mental shielding to read your mind. Now, to be able to do this, the Bureau has actually found someone who is a semi-strong telepath to test the agent we'll be sending out and make sure that their mind can't be read and to help teach stronger mental shields if needed. We're hoping that'll allow us to be prepared in case our suspicions are right and he does have a telepath of his own on staff. With your already built shields, that puts you a step ahead of anyone else we might select."

"That makes sense." On that point Spencer couldn't argue. It was logical and it was true. He dismissed that part of things, not concerned with it, and moved to the part that _did_ concern him. "How close exactly am I expected to get to him? How deep into this role am I expected to go, Hotch?"

"The Bureau answer to that is to tell you that you're expected to go as far as comfortable and as you deem necessary, Reid. Whether or not I agree with that is irrelevant. My opinion there has been steadfastly overruled."

He added that bit of information to the rest of it. A picture was growing in his mind, almost there but not quite complete. He needed a bit more information to be able to fully understand everything. "And what is the cover role I'd be supplied? If I said yes to this, what would happen? Who would I become?"

Nothing showed on Aaron's face as he picked up another folder and handed it over. Again, he explained things even as Spencer read through what was there. "We have a few possibilities, depending on what you're comfortable and capable with. It's been proven that Waters has a soft spot for young, southern men. But we're open to any of the possibilities in there. It has to be one you'd be comfortable with. One that you can put on and feel realistic inside of, or it won't work."

"This one here, this Levi Braden Calhoun, he seems to fit Grayson's preferences." Spencer pointed out. He ran his finger down the page for 'Levi'. "A twenty two year old college student from Lexington, Kentucky. Kicked out of his home by a family with the strong religious values of the south, ostracized for his homosexuality. Grayson would most likely relate to that in one form or another and it would also provide him an opening he'd enjoy, allowing him to step in and be a confidant as well as a sort of protector. Someone who can make it better."

"That cover requires an accent and would take a short time for you to be taught to change your speech to suit at least some of that accent."

"Accents aren't that difficult to master, sir. All it takes is the right change to certain words."

Aaron couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in surprise at Spencer's words. The voice that had come out of the young man across from him hadn't been his usual speech, but a slow southern drawl that he would've sworn was natural if he didn't know the man. "I'm impressed, Reid."

Shrugging, Spencer looked up once more. When he spoke, his voice was back to normal. "I used to be fascinated by the sound of accents. A friend of mine is a master at switching his accent to any sound he wants and he's taught me a few of them, just for amusements sake. I've also managed an Irish accent, a British, and a mostly passable Cajun accent—well, at least enough of one that he doesn't wince at me when I try anymore. A Kentucky drawl won't be difficult."

It was with that last part of the statement that both men knew—Spencer was going to take the job. His comments didn't carry the 'what if' sound to them anymore, but spoke in a way that clearly said he was going to be doing this. Aaron acknowledged that with a small nod of his head. "Are you sure you can maintain an accent like that full time? Because one slip could mess up your entire cover."

"I'm sure. The trick is to force yourself to think that way as well as speak it. As soon as you start thinking with that sound, it makes it much easier for it to come out of your mouth that way." He looked back down at the papers he held and once more read through the cover story, just to make sure he had all the information. "This one is the one I could put on the easiest, I believe. Most of the history given here is dealing with things I understand or can easily start to understand. The story is basic enough to be easily adaptable. Twenty two years old, attending the University of California in San Diego. Major undecided right now with an interest in mechanical engineering. How long is it going to take to get this set up?"

"They're ready to push this as soon as you'd be ready, Reid. At your word, we'll head straight down and meet with the team and discuss particulars. Their hopes are to have an agent established in an apartment by the end of the week and first contact made within the next two weeks."

It wasn't surprising. From the sounds of this, this team had been working on this for quite a while and they'd already done a lot of startup work on this new part. They just needed the person to play the role, now. Spencer took a moment to close his eyes and review everything he'd just read, everything he'd heard, and to honestly think about it. Yet he knew what he was going to do. Thinking it through this way was just a double checking process. A formality, in his mind. He opened his eyes once more and looked straight at his boss, his friend, and he nodded at him. "I'll do it. Let's get started."


	15. Changed

_prompt "Genderswap, either always-a-girl or switched because of magic or a mutant's powers" I went with the 'switched' version and made Spencer a Summers because I wanted to lol_

* * *

This whole situation was messed up. The team never should've been there. Spencer knew that. This was something that they shouldn't have been involved in. But they hadn't known when they'd come here to investigate these disappearances that it was actually a mutant responsible. Nor had they known just what they were getting themselves into. Not until they arrived here at the club to do an interview and found the X-Men already here. There'd been no time to back out after that; the fight had seemed to happen almost instantly and there was no choice but to be drawn in.

That was how Spencer found himself here, pinned up against the wall by a hand on his throat by the furious mutant in front of him. Something hit his body, a strange jolt, and then he was flying through the air to land on the ground, hitting and sliding, and not only did everything hurt, but everything felt _wrong._

There was no disorientation. No moment of wondering what the hell had happened. Spencer knew what had happened. He knew what Shift's power was; had felt the physical change run over him at her touch. Without even looking down, he knew the change that had happened to his body—the shift from male to female. Shift had the ability to change not only her—or his, depending on how you looked at it—gender, but others as well. Spencer had felt his body change. Felt the difference in height that left him shorter than before, the change in chest size, the change in _everything_. That _bitch_ had changed him to a her! On a furious shriek of rage, he shoved off the ground at the same time that he called a bolt of lightning, slamming it into the ground directly in front of Shift. The woman just laughed and jumped back a step. "Now, now, play nice!" She called out teasingly.

"I'll show you how to play nice!" Spencer snarled out. On his feet, he stalked forward, almost tripping over the hem of his pants. With one hand he grabbed the waistband of his now too large pants and held them up, his other hand out in front of him. Another bolt of lightning hit the ground in front of Shift. "You fix this and you fix this _right now_!" The last words came out as a high pitched shriek that made even Spencer wince.

Behind him, Spencer heard people rushing into the room. In his moment of distraction, as he recognized not only his team, but his brother's team come rushing in, someone else joined in. Spencer turned back around right as Vapor appeared next to Shift. No! "_No_!" Spencer tried, really he did, to make that leap forward, but he wasn't fast enough. With horror he watched as Vapor grabbed Shift and, with a move that spoke of long practice, he snapped her neck and let her drop to the ground before he gave Spencer a grin and vanished them both. Spencer hit the ground on hands and knees. "No!" He shrieked again. Dammit, no!

Someone was walking toward him, moving cautiously. He was the only person left in here, the only one—alive—to talk to about whatever had happened. It took Spencer only a quick 'feel' to realize that the signature of who was coming to him was Emily, with Jean right behind her. Their concern was easily felt. Spencer was too furious to really care about how concerned they were. Ignoring the pain, he pushed off the ground once more, clutching at his pants to keep them on. As he straightened up, his feet ached slightly and he looked down, realizing he'd lost his shoes somewhere and was standing here in his mismatched socks on top of bits of gravelly rubble from the fight. He paid no attention to how everyone froze at the sight of him. He didn't even think about what it would look like to them to see a woman wearing the clothes they'd seen Spencer in not but moments before. Furious, the young genius stormed over to where his shoes were at on the ground and glared at them before scooping them up.

The act of bending over to get them caused his head to spin, almost toppling him down to the ground once more. It was only Derek's quick reflexes that managed to keep him from falling. Somehow Spencer found himself being moved and then seated on something. A chill ran down his body and his arms slipped up to wrap around his waist. Adrenaline was wearing away and reality was sinking in. A cautious mind touch was reaching for him and Spencer accepted the link without thinking, recognizing the touch. _/Yes, Jean?/_

_/Oh my God, that is you. Spencer! What happened?/_ Jean's shock reverberated inside of him, bouncing around inside of his head and making him groan.

He brought his hands up to cradle his head against the headache growing there. _/Careful, please. I'm having a hard time shielding emotions. That woman, man, _thing_, Shift—it touched me, made me like this and then…well, you saw. There is no way Shift is still alive. What am I going to do, Jean? What the hell am I going to do?/_

_/We need to get you to Hank, right away. Maybe there's something he can do to help fix this. You need to focus on your shields, sweetie. They're far, far too low. Try to strengthen them/_

Try? As if he weren't already? Spencer pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes to combat the headache pulsing there. He felt as something warm draped over him and then there was a smooth Cajun voice murmuring to him. "Y' look like y'r freezing, cher." Spencer realized as he opened his eyes that it was Remy's trench draped over him and the man was standing right beside him. He flashed him a nervous smile, not quite sure what to say. He and Remy had talked once or twice, but the two had never really gone beyond that. Most of the time when Spencer came to the mansion, he spent all his time with Scott. The two would cloister off together and spend time with one another or head out into town. Generally, though, Spencer stayed at their condo in the city and Scott came there. The only people at the mansion that Spencer could claim to know well aside from Scott were the other originals. Those ones had known him when he was younger.

Spencer recognized that his thoughts were scrambling. He couldn't seem to pull them together into something coherent. Looking up at Remy, he opened his mouth, trying to tell him something, but the words wouldn't come. The world seemed to start slowly spinning around him and he only had time for a soft "_Oh_" before his body slumped down into the dark. The last thing he felt was a pair of arms catching him up before he could hit the ground.


	16. Taken

_prompt "kidnapped/tortured Spencer"_

* * *

How the hell could they have let this happen? That was the main thought running through Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner's mind as he stood in the conference room of the LVPD, staring at a wall without actually seeing anything in front of him. How the hell had they let something like this happen? It should never have come to this. This horror should never have happened.

Four days ago the BAU had been brought to Las Vegas to help the LVPD in finding a serial killer in their midst. The Unsub was taking young men and women both, keeping them for a week before killing them and dumping their bodies in random places in Vegas. During the week he held them, not only did he torture them, but he recorded it all and streamed it live on a private website. The first day the person was taken, the Unsub sent a package to the family or friends of the victim, whoever was accessible for him. They would get a link that would take them to the secure website where he would stream a live feed for them. It ran all through the day and shut off each night from seven pm to seven am. For the first three victims, none of the families had come forward. The package had warned them not to go to the police. He told them that those he held deserved death.

It was the fourth victim's family that had come forward to the police. That had been the stepping stone for the other families to bring forward their information as well. Four bodies in and with another victim missing, the BAU had been brought in to try and stop it before four became five. But they had been brought in with too little time and their Unsub was too talented with his technology so that even Penelope couldn't track him. Four became five.

From the instant they got the case, the whole team had kept a close eye on Spencer. They knew it hit close to home for him, having these victims being tortured on video. Too well they all remembered the case with Tobias Hankel. So they watched him and they were there for him if he needed it, but he seemed to be handling all of it better than they had thought. When Aaron had offered to allow him to sit this case out, he'd shaken his head and dismissed their concerns about it affecting him with that usual, quiet way of his. He'd brushed it off in their days here, saying that he would be fine, the circumstances were different, and even saying that maybe it would help him find a better understanding of this Unsub. That last comment had made Aaron proud. Now? Now, he was choking on that pride.

The BAU team had woken to horror this morning. Derek, shouting to him in the hall, calling "Hotch! Guys!" and they'd all raced out, guns at the ready, to find Derek standing there with a note in his gloved hand. Aaron remembered the terror on Derek's face. One of the most fearless of them, the type of person to get angry before afraid, and he'd looked terrified. Even as Aaron had taken the note, part of him had known. He had known. Reading the note had confirmed it.

_Dear BAU,_

_If you're reading this, it means that you've finally realized that your precious Dr. Reid is missing. I wonder how long it took you to realize that. How does this make you feel right now? How does it make you feel to know that your precious teammate is missing? That the one you hunt actually managed to get into your hotel and take one of your own?_

_You know how the game works. I will send the package tomorrow; wait for it. You will have the link to your live video stream where you can watch your precious agent until his death. You cannot trace me. You cannot find me. You cannot save him._

_Time is ticking, agents. Do you still think you can find me? Oh, and if you think the little…extra that your precious Dr. Reid has might help him, let me warn you that I'm a little 'extra' as well. He will have no effect on me._

_Your UNSUB_

It was the 'extra' part of the note that worried Aaron the most, because there was something that no one outside of the team knew about Spencer—and that was that he was a mutant. A mutant that controlled electrical energy. If his mutation wasn't able to help him, if the Unsub wasn't lying that he was 'extra' as well, then that changed so much about this. Aaron had been faced with a decision that had barely taken any thought. Maybe if the circumstances had been different, he might not have been so quick to make this phone call. But this was Spencer, their youngest, one of their own, and Aaron would do anything to bring him back home. Already the young agent had lived through far too much hell. This…he didn't need this, too. So Aaron had pulled out a number no one knew he had and called in a favor to an old friend of the family. Charles Xavier.

Already the man had been aware of a mutant serial killer in Vegas and he'd already sent a few of his people to check it out. When Aaron told him that one of his agents had been taken, Charles had promised their full assistance.

That was what they waited on now; the arrival of the X-Men. They were not idle as they waited, though. Penelope was doing everything possible to prepare to try and back trace the man's signal. Dave and Derek worked with the CSU to try and see if they could gain anything from the hotel surveillance or the hotel room and then they'd canvassed to see if anyone had heard anything or seen anything. While they did that, Ashley and Emily went to find William Reid to see if he too had received a message. Aaron took care of the call to check on Diana Reid.

"Hotch."

Emily's voice cut into Aaron's thoughts. Turning, he found her standing in the doorway, Ashley at her side and four people that Aaron didn't know behind her. The Unit Chief drew himself up, wrapping the shield around him that he had perfected over the years. One of the people stepped around Emily, moving toward him and holding his hand out. He had a visor on his face that gave his identity away easily enough; Cyclops. These were the X-Men. "Agent Hotchner?" The man said politely. "I'm Cyclops. The Professor told us what's going on. He also said he spoke with the locals here and that he got agreement from them for us all to work together. It's my hope to solve this as quickly as possible."

The man had a firm handshake and the bearing of a definite leader. Aaron nodded at him and hoped that these people could help. "That's our hope as well and we appreciate any help you can offer us. I assume you're all aware of the facts pertaining to the case?"

"We are. We've been watching the past few days and we briefed on the new information en route." Cyclops gestured to the people behind him, bringing them forward. "Let me introduce who I've got with me and then we'll get down to what we can do. This is my team; Wolverine, Storm and Gambit. If you don't mind, I'd like to send Wolverine and Storm over to the hotel to take a look at Dr. Reid's room, if at all possible. There might be things there they sense that others might not know to look for or have the ability to notice."

"Of course." Aaron answered instantly. "Prentiss, would you take them over? Stay with Morgan and let Dave know to head back here."

Emily nodded but didn't immediately move. "Hotch? William got a letter as well." Pausing, she grimaced just slightly, barely noticeable to those that didn't know her. It was obvious she didn't want to say what she said next, especially not in front of others. However, this situation didn't lend them the ability to be private the way they might wish. "He hadn't even read it yet. When we explained what was going on, he handed it over and told us he didn't need to read it and that he'd trust us to take care of things."

Anger boiled low in Aaron's stomach. No matter how many times they were faced with proof of it, it still baffled him that someone could care so little about their own child. He'd seen William's lack of regard for Spencer in so many different ways and yet it still infuriated him each time. He couldn't conceive of calmly continuing to work if something like this was happening to Jack. Hell, he was barely managing it now with Spencer! Not trusting his words, Aaron nodded at her. A moment later she was escorting Wolverine and Storm out of the station. That left Cyclops and Gambit with Aaron, Penelope and Ashley. Sighing, Aaron looked around the room. "Well, allow me to introduce who's here. This is SA Ashley Seaver and our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia. Anything you need from us, just let us know."

Before anyone could speak, a low, painful sound came from Penelope and suddenly her fingers were flying across the keyboard even as she spoke. "Sir. It…the feed started."

It was only years of training that kept Aaron's hands from shaking as he took the spare laptop and turned it to face him. The sight that met him had his stomach dropping straight down to his toes. _Reid_. Right there on the screen was his missing agent. Each victim had been held in a different place so far; Spencer was no different. His room looked nothing like the others. It looked to be a warehouse of some kind this time, though Aaron saw nothing to distinguish what kind of warehouse. The ground was cement and the wall in the background looked typical, with nothing special marking it. He was having a hard time looking at anything other than Spencer, though. The young genius was in center screen, drawing the eye instantly. His feet were bare and he was standing almost on his tiptoes in an obvious effort to relieve the stress on his wrists, which were held in manacles and stretched above his head. Between his feet they saw a metal ring embedded into the ground. The only article of clothing he wore was his slacks; the rest had been taken away. There was already a bruise bright on Spencer's left cheekbone that seemed to stand out on all that pale skin, as did the blood from the wound near the bruise. _That has to be where the Unsub knocked him out. He must've blitzed him_.

But it was the slightly defiant tilt to his chin that truly got to Aaron the most. Despite being mostly stripped and shackled, knowing what was coming and faced with a fear they had never wanted him to have to face again, still Spencer showed that quiet courage that was inside of him. His chin was tipped up and his eyes were steady on something off screen. The conference room went utterly silent as a voice came from the speakers. "Well hello! Are you all ready for the games to begin?"

The silence of the conference room was almost oppressive. Aaron slowly sat down, his eyes never leaving the laptop screen. Beside him, Cyclops sat as well. Gambit was sitting down at the table but he was pulling out his own laptop from the bag over his shoulder and setting it up on the table. Ashley stood by Penelope, watching as the tech analyst started to type furiously. Aaron couldn't look away from the screen. He couldn't take his eyes off his agent. His agent, whom he had failed.

Spencer's sudden voice startled them. "The games?" He spoke calmly and carefully, just a hint of curiosity to his words, as if this were another puzzle he was discussing with the team. "Is that what this is to you, then? A set of games?"

"Of course, doctor. Of course." The voice that answered him was smooth and amused. Suddenly the man came on screen, the same man they'd seen in the last video. The same one the others say they saw in theirs. A man dressed from head to toe in absolute black. The only part of him that showed was his bright blue eyes. The rest was covered by black material. The Unsub strolled up to Spencer, stopping just out of reach. "Isn't that what it always is? Each case you solve, each case you don't solve, they're all just another game. You play by your rules, your Unsubs play by theirs, and in the end there is always a winner and a loser. I wonder who will be the winner this time."

"That's one way of looking at things." Spencer said agreeably.

If anything, that only amused the Unsub more. "And you have another view?"

"A few. But I confess, I'm slightly more interested in why _you_ view it this way."

Laughter echoed over the speakers. "Come now, Doctor. Did you really think it would be so simple to get me to start talking? That you could just ask me questions and I would spill everything to you?" Again, that cold laugh. "I don't think so. We play my game by my rules. Though, I will admit, I've never played against such a prestigious set of players before. Not only your beloved BAU team and the pathetic local officers, but now there are _X-Men_ there as well! Isn't that wonderful!"

Wait a second… "How did he know you were here?" Aaron swore in a low voice to Cyclops. Son of a bitch! How did this guy know?

Their Unsub wasn't done, however. He turned toward the camera and they swore they could see the smile in those eyes. "Seeing as how you naughty BAU brought in extra help, I figured I had to change the rules a little, just to make it fair. All of my other players had seven days to try to find their loved ones without the aid of police. All of them failed. But with so many of you working this, you don't need the full seven, do you? Oh no, not you! So that's the first rule change. You have one day, agents, X-Men, officers. One day to find the precious genius of the FBI. And with some talented hackers with you, I don't think it's fair to leave the feed up constantly, do you? So, once every three hours, exactly three hours, the feed will come on for thirty minutes, during which you will watch what happens to the man you claim to care for. You'll see what happens when you do not protect your own."

"How the hell are we supposed to do this?" Ashley burst out. "He's making it impossible!"

The Unsub disappeared off screen for a moment. When he came back, he was facing away from the camera. However, whatever he'd grabbed was enough to have Spencer jerking in his chains. There was a panicked look in his eyes for a split second before he locked it down. That fear had the room going silent and the Unsub laughing. "Oh, don't worry, Doctor." The man reassured him. "I've done my research on you. I'm not going to give you the things Tobias gave you. That would be cruel, wouldn't you say?"

The mention of Tobias had both Aaron and Penelope freezing and Spencer's jaw tightening. That was the only outward sign the young agent gave of his distress. His voice still remained calm. "As opposed to the torture you already have planned?"

"True." The man nodded a little as if conceding a point. "But, I won't give it to you for another reason. Tobias gave that to you to help you. To offer you escape. I don't want you to have that luxury. I want you to feel it all but be unable to do a thing. So, I'm going to do something else entirely. According to some research I did on you, your little quirk doesn't work quite right when you take a muscle relaxant, isn't that correct? You can't even touch a spark."

This time the horror that popped into Spencer's eyes was so much stronger. His mouth moved for a second before words actually came out. "I knew I felt off." He whispered. "You already gave me some."

"Just a tad. Not enough to do much, I'm afraid." The Unsub agreed. "I couldn't have you ruining this before it started, now could I? But, it's time for your next dose." Without further ado, the Unsub moved forward. Then, in a move they hadn't expected, he flung a fist out and caught Spencer right in the stomach, knocking the air from him and jerking his feet out from under him. In that moment of weakness, he darted in and pressed a needle into Spencer's skin, injecting him with the muscle relaxant. Aaron's hands clenched in his lap under the table as he watched Spencer fight for air. Fight to get his feet back under him.

The Unsub reached out, grabbing Spencer's chin and jerking his head up. "We've already wasted fifteen of your thirty minutes, so we'll have to make the next fifteen count. The time for talking is done." And with no more words than that, the man made good on his word. It was one of the hardest things Aaron had ever had to watch. He had seen people hurt before; he had seen agents under his care be hurt. He'd even seen Spencer be hurt. Somehow, none of it compared to this. Not in this moment. The Unsub was making this some giant game and that seemed to make it all the worse. He didn't simply beat Spencer. No, he took his time, playing with him. He'd stand behind him for a minute or so, making him wonder what was coming next, before finally lashing out. He hit him, kicked him, slapped him. All the while Spencer fought to keep his feet. He clenched his jaw and focused his eyes on a spot to the side of the camera and he took every hit. The occasional gasp or grunt came out but not a single scream.

Abruptly the Unsub stepped away from Spencer, striding forward to the camera until he was off screen. Once more they heard his voice, "Your three hours start now, as do your twenty four. Can you find him before the next round?" and then the camera was shut off.

For a long beat that really only felt like seconds, Aaron stared at the blank webpage. It wasn't until Cyclops touched his arm that his attention snapped back to the present moment. Somehow he made his voice come out sounding normal, without a sign of any of his inner turmoil. "I imagine you have questions." He said calmly. Turning, he looked to Ashley. "Shut the door, please. This is best kept inside this room." Only when the door was shut did Aaron turn back toward Cyclops once more. "I never got around to mentioning it to the Professor before and, honestly, I wasn't comfortable saying this over the phone. To keep my agent safe, this needs to stay here."

"I understand."

And Aaron knew that Cyclops did understand. Who better than another mutant? Nodding, Aaron prepared to tell someone a secret that wasn't his own to share. "I imagine you already know now from what the Unsub said, but let me confirm it. Reid is…he's a mutant. And no one outside of our team knows this."

From his spot down the table, Gambit asked "What can he do?"

"He can manipulate electrical energy." Penelope supplied. She, out of them all, had the best understanding. She and Spencer had discussed it more in depth than any of the others had. "It's why he tends to avoid electronics really, even though people think he's just anti-technology. He always jokes with me that my lair is like walking into a candy store. He wants to just absorb it all. Not only can he manipulate it, but he says his body can metabolize the electrical energy and turn it into pure energy that he can, well, use offensively."

"And the muscle relaxer?" Cyclops asked.

Penelope's expression turned a little frustrated. "I don't know how he knows that. It's not like Reid makes it common knowledge. When he takes a muscle relaxer, it makes it to where he can feel all the energy but he can't do anything with it. He told me once that drawing in electrical energy was easy, but to let it out or to manipulate it in any way, it's almost like a flexing of a muscle. Taking a muscle relaxer makes it so that he can't flex that muscle. He said he hates the feeling it leaves him with. Absolutely hates it." Her voice trailed off, an aching edge to it, and she looked down before going back to her computer. "I couldn't get a lock on his signal but I'll try and set up what I can for when it comes back online. He's good, but I'm better. I'll write a program to try and track him."

"Can you have it ready in three hours?" Aaron asked.

"I don't know." She admitted. "But I'm darn well going to try."

* * *

*1 Hour to next video*

*22 Hours to deadline*

The conference room might've looked like a bit of chaos to any outside observer, but it was a carefully controlled chaos on the inside. Everyone had returned from the hotel and all introductions had been made. Now was a matter of organizing their efforts while keeping an eye on the clock. To do this and do it right, the two teams needed to mesh their efforts and work together. The only thing was, there wasn't much to go on. Their best bet was all the information they had here at the station. So once more they were going to go over it all, hoping that a fresh set of eyes would help them.

Seeing everyone settle in with folders and pictures, Gambit strolled over to Cyclops. "Fearless." The drawled out word drew his boss's attention. "Gambit gonna go out on de streets, talk to de local folks. Dere might be some info out dere. People might know things; people dat aint gonna come talking to de cops. Figured maybe Gambit and his Stormy could go talk to dem, see what can be found, _oui_?"

"Sounds good. Keep your com on you." Cyclops warned.

Storm rose regally and moved to link her arm with Gambit's. "How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Stormy, brother?" Her tone was affection even if her words were lecturing.

The young Cajun flashed her a grin. "_D'accord_, Stormy." His grin wiped away as he looked at the clock and back at the room. "If we get something vital, we'll get ahold of y'. If we aint back fo' de time limit…we'll do what we can." With that, the two left.

Cyclops turned to look at the others, shaking his head slightly. He gave Aaron a reassuring smile. "He may seem carefree, but I assure you that there's no one who can better gather information from street kids than Gambit. If there's anything to be found out there, he'll find it, and fast. He's good at what he does."

"Let's just hope there's something to be found." Derek said in a low voice. No one had any response to that.

* * *

For Spencer, the next three hours seemed to crawl by at the same time as racing past. After the Unsub shut the camera off, he had tied a blindfold over Spencer's eyes and then he'd left. Just left. Since then, Spencer had been hanging here, trying to balance on feet that were aching, the muscles in his calves protesting the movements. He tried to think as he hung there; it was the only thing he could really do. Moaning over his injuries would get him nowhere and he'd been hurt far worse in his life. He could handle this. He could take it.

The sound of a door opening drew his attention off to the side. Spencer strained his ears, trying to listen, to hear anything that might help him or warn him of what was to come. There was something that was almost metallic sounding that confused him at first. Then he found himself moving, his feet flattening on the ground, and he knew what that wound was. His chains had been lowered. But only enough that his feet could be flat on the ground, with just a tiny bit of slack. A tiny, tiny bit. Then there were more footsteps and Spencer heard rattling. "What are you doing?" He found himself asking.

"You have two options here, Dr. Reid." The Unsub's voice was low and amused. "Either spread your feet and let me attach these shackles to your ankles and to the floor hook, or I take this knife and stab your leg so you can't move it and then I attach them. Which is it going to be?"

Only for a second did Spencer weigh his options. He had absolutely no doubt the man meant what he said. It was obvious in the signs of torture on the victims and in the easy humor he had as he'd uttered that threat. Though it went against everything in him to do it, Spencer spaced his feet out and braced them on the ground. He was rewarded with a chuckle before cold metal snapped around his ankle. Thankfully, it was over his pant leg. There was movement as it was most likely attached to the hook and then the other end was being snapped on his other ankle. He was completely restrained here. Heaven help him.

Though he could feel the energy from the camera in front of him, feeling the surge as the Unsub turned it on, he couldn't reach out and grasp it. He could do nothing with it. All that energy and he couldn't even use any of it to help himself. The drug in his system made it impossible. What was worse, the muscle relaxer was also making it more and more difficult to maintain his mental shields. That was one thing that Spencer knew he had to fight to maintain. Not even his team knew about that battle that he occasionally struggled with. They knew about his primary mutation, they didn't know about his secondary one. They didn't know he was an empath. And with this drug, it was becoming harder for him to keep up the shields necessary to keep from feeling the man's emotions.

"Time for round two." The Unsub said gleefully.

Spencer tried to brace himself. He tried to plant his feet and prepare for whatever came his way. He knew the camera would be on now and his team would be watching. He would not shame himself in front of them. He would be strong. But Spencer had forgotten one fundamental rule to pain—no matter how hard you try, you can never fully prepare for the shock of it on your body.

The whistle in the air was his only warning before the first strip of fire exploded over his back.

* * *

*10 minutes to next video*

*15 hours and ten minutes to deadline*

Nothing. They had absolutely nothing.

Hours had gone by and still, they had nothing. There was ten minutes until the next video and they had nothing to stop it from happening. Nothing to even go on. Just, nothing. Three times now the video had streamed. Three times Spencer had been tortured on a live feed in front of them. Three thirty minute videos that would forever be burned in the memories of those that saw them. Even the ones who did not know him knew that they would never forget the young man who was somehow managing to stand so strong and sure through such pain. Even when reduced to screams in the last video, the first time his body had broken strength enough to let those screams free, there had still been strength to him. His screams hadn't taken away from it. Who could blame him for screaming? The last video…the Unsub had simply hit him, but he had relished in slapping his palms onto the welts that decorated Spencer's backside from the flogging he'd received in the video before.

They all gathered now, closing off the conference room, shutting the door and the blinds. This was not something for the whole station to see. This was a private pain and they would keep it that way. With four laptops on the tables, two of which were set and prepared with a program that Gambit and Penelope had written together to try to trace the signal, they could only wait. Wait, as the minutes counted down. Ten minutes. Nine. Eight. Wait, and feel helpless, knowing that a man was about to be hurt and they had nothing. Seven. Six. Five. Wait, and pray for some miracle. Pray that he would be strong enough. Four. Three. Two.

One.

The website feed came to life. All eyes locked onto the screens as once more, Spencer's figure came into view. Still shackled with his arms up, his ankles still hooked to the ring in the ground, he looked bruised and only slightly bloody and yet he was still standing, even if he did look like he was slumping just a bit. His feet still held underneath him. He was still blindfolded, something that made his team flinch. They knew Spencer's fear of the dark and they knew that the blindfold had to make things so much worse for him.

The Unsub was standing at Spencer's side, twirling a knife in his hands. "Tsk, tsk." He said with a shake of his head. "Another three hours and still, nothing. How does that make you feel, Dr. Reid? Does it hurt? Does it make you angry, knowing that your team hasn't found you? I thought they were supposed to be the best! Or is it just that they're nothing without their pet genius?"

"They are the best." Spencer said in a voice that sounded slightly thick. His last dose of muscle relaxant must still be strong in his system. The young man turned his head toward the Unsub, even though he couldn't see him, and there was a woozy sort of smirk curling his lips. "And you can play your word games all you want, but you'll never convince me that they'll ever abandon me. They will look for me and they will find me. And I almost pity you when they do."

"Oh, don't bait him, kid." Derek groaned softly at the computer. "Dammit, don't bait him."

Dave shook his head. "He knows the Unsub won't kill him. It's not part of the game." He pointed out.

"No, but he'll hurt him more." Emily whispered. No one had any response for that.

The Unsub snickered at Spencer's words and gave a shake of his head. "You are a bold one, Dr. Reid, I'll give you that." He taunted. Lifting his knife, he put it under Spencer's chin, tilting his head up. "You're almost too drugged for this to be fun. That last dose is lasting longer than I thought. Good. Now, let's not waste any more time, eh? I think we'll stick to your front, seeing as how someone in your past already nicely marked your back for me. Before we're done, you'll have to tell me where that burn came from. It's quite extensive and beautiful."

Spencer pulled his head back from the knife, slurring something unintelligible. The Unsub simply laughed and started his game.

* * *

It took every ounce of strength Spencer had left in his body to keep his reactions to the cuts on his body mild. He focused entirely on making the appropriate noise, the one that would fit with his charade—for it was a charade he was playing right now. In his mind he counted the seconds, one by one, ticking off minute by minute in his mind as he played his part as best as possible. He needed the Unsub to believe him more drugged than he was. It wasn't hard to slump down in his chains, not with the pain his body felt. The difficulty lay in modulating his reactions.

That grew a little easier when the Unsub tired of his knife and tossed it aside. Still in the dark, Spencer suddenly found himself falling, his body crashing onto the ground with a thump that made him scream weakly. Before he could recover, the chains on his hands were hooked to somewhere else—he couldn't see to know that their chain had been hooked to the same ring as his ankle chains—and then a foot connected with his stomach. Spencer lost track of the pain. He lost track of how many times he tried to curl up, tried to move, only to be met with another fist or foot.

When it finally stopped, his head was sheltered in his arms to hide the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. He would not let the man see him cry. He would not give him that joy. There were words, the man saying something to the camera, and then a change in power before footsteps moving away. Spencer lay perfectly still as he listened to the door open and shut. Even then, he lay still longer, waiting to make sure the man really was gone. Only when he was sure did he take a deep breath and start to push past the minimal drug left in him, stretching with all his might for the electricity he could feel around him.

* * *

There was more than one face that was wet with tears in the conference room at the station. Derek was sitting beside Penelope, holding on to her as she hid her face against his shoulder. The program she and Gambit had written hadn't had time to complete before the video had been shut off. They were no closer than when they'd started. And all of them could only wonder how much longer Spencer would survive this game. Emily had to turn away, pacing to the wall to gather her composure. Ashley sat quietly crying, looking at a file in her lap. Dave was sitting forward in his chair, arms on his legs, staring down at the ground. Gambit was in an almost identical pose with his cheeks wet as well, Storm sitting beside him with her forehead pressed to the side of his head in silent comfort. Even Cyclops and Wolverine were taking a moment to recover, standing off by a wall, neither saying a word yet still standing close to one another. Aaron stood beside them, staring at the floor, saying nothing. What could he say? What could any of them say?

It was Gambit who finally did say something. The computer in front of him flashed something that caught his attention and he looked up. All of a sudden the room echoed with his cry. His fingers went racing over the keyboard, eyes trained on the screen. "Cher." He called out toward Penelope. "Y' see dis?"

Pulling away from Derek, Penelope looked at her screen. Then she gasped and she too was typing quickly. "It's a direct line." She suddenly breathed out. "Oh my word. It's Reid!"

"Has to be." Gambit agreed. His fingers flew faster and faster. All eyes were locked on the two of them. "De _homme_ must've been faking de drugged part, lulling de _connard_ so dat he could do dis. Dat's one tough _homme_ dere. Ah! Got it!" Without warning Gambit launched up from his chair and spun. "We got de address. Let's go! De damn place aint even ten minutes away."

Energy seemed to pour into the room. Without any more words, everyone was racing away, gathering their vests and preparing to go bring the man home before it was too late!

* * *

The effort it took to hold the link was almost more than Spencer could bear. He clung to it as long as he could, tapping into the camera and its computer and opening up as much of the computers information as he could. That took skill on a good day; today was definitely not a good day. He could only hope that it would be enough for Penelope. That she would be able to use it to find him.

Suddenly the door crashed open and Spencer jumped, dropping the link in a flash. It was too late, though. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd been holding that energy or not when the door opened—the Unsub already knew. "You son of a bitch!" The words echoed shrilly around them before Spencer suddenly found a body on his, fists seeming to fly out of nowhere. Without his sight, he couldn't tell where they were coming from. "You lying little bastard!"

Using the energy he had to try to send his message to Penelope had taken most of Spencer's strength. Because of that, his shields were low and he couldn't stop the Unsub's rage from slamming into him like knives to his brain. It crippled him worse than any of the hits did.

Hands wrapped around his throat and Spencer's thoughts became pain when his head slammed into the ground. Terror licked at his insides. _Please, please, let them come. Let them have gotten my message. Let them come_. Again his head was lifted and again it was slammed down. His whole world was centered on the pain in his mind and body and doing anything, anything, to get it to stop. Despite his shackles, he tried to strike out with hands and feet, paying no mind to the way the metal ripped at already abused skin. He was fighting for his life.

When the energy gathered in his hands, Spencer didn't even notice at first. All the moving around had made his blindfold slip and he found himself staring up into that masked face, staring into cold blue eyes, and he was trying to shove his hands at that face to do something to get the bastard off of him before his split his head open on the ground and then suddenly Spencer was aware that he had drawn the electrical energy from around him and into his hands and at the same time that he shoved it against the man's face, there were other sounds around them, shouts and bangs and so many things that Spencer didn't even realize that he'd zapped the man right off of him just like he'd shoved a Taser into him.

His head was spinning and oh, shit, it hurt so much. Everything was spinning and fading at the edges and he fought to make his vision clear and not to let it blur. Then hands touched him and he didn't even think, didn't do anything but react off of instinct, letting the energy course over him so that the hands on him were shocked as well. Not enough to kill, but enough to knock them off. At least, some. One set of hands stayed on him. One was unaffected by him, no matter how he jacked the power up. Then it was just too much. Even with the electricity in him, it was too much. Spencer's body had taken too many blows, too much pain, and lost too much natural energy. With a gasp, he slumped back to the ground.

* * *

It was pure shock that filled the warehouse. Shock when the BAU and X-Men had burst in to find the Unsub on top of Spencer, slamming his head into the ground. Shock as they saw all the blood. Shock as the man flew backward suddenly. Then the biggest shock of all as Derek, Cyclops and Wolverine had all tried to get a hold of the thrashing Spencer. There'd been a crackle in the air and then both Derek and Wolverine flew back, jerking their hands towards their chests. Cyclops didn't even realize it at first. His being was focused on the body under his hands that suddenly slumped. Terror gripped him and he instinctively reached up, feeling for a pulse. When he found it, he breathed a sigh of relief. It was there. Faint, but there.

Everything after that happened in a rapid fire blur. The Unsub had stupidly tried to fight, ending his life as the bullets entered his chest. They all had a feeling it was what he had wanted. Then came the medics, swarming in and Spencer was put onto a gurney and whisked away to the hospital and the rest of them were left standing there as officers filed in to process the crime scene. Storm had finally been the one to tell the BAU team "Go. We will meet you shortly at the hospital. Go, see to your friend. We know that is where you wish to be. Allow us to care for things here."

Not that there was anything for them to do here or that they'd be allowed to do. Now that the case was solved, the officers were watching the X-Men the way they would wild dogs, as if waiting for them to turn and attack. In short order, the four X-Men made their way out of the warehouse and toward their rental car. Only when they were inside and safely away from prying ears did Cyclops stop being Cyclops for a moment and let himself be Scott, turning to look at his team. "What happened in there? One minute you and Agent Morgan were there with me and the next you weren't."

Logan gave him a strange look before shaking his head. "You didn't feel it? The kid zapped us. Not hard enough to do damage but enough to jolt us off."

"Really?" That had Scott's eyebrows winging up. He hadn't felt anything.

Leaning forward from the backseat, Ororo looked curiously at him. "Do you think you have some kind of immunity to his power?"

"The only person I've had immunity against is Alex. He's the only person who can hit me with his powers and it does nothing, just like mine do nothing to him, but Hank says that's because we're brothers."

"Ya aint got an extra brother running around, do ya?" Logan teased.

Rolling his eyes even though he knew Logan couldn't see it, Scott turned the car on. "Let's just get the hospital. I for one would like to make sure the kid ended up okay."

That quieted the car down. It was a somber group that made their way toward the hospital, each of them wondering the whole way there if they had been on time to save this young agent, or if they'd been too late.


	17. Two Worlds, Two Lives: Prologue

_Story Idea: Remy meets a beautiful young woman and falls in love with her. Only, he doesn't know that she has a secret. The pretty young Spencer that he met isn't exactly who she says she is. Spencer keeps her true identity secret from Remy. How can she tell him that her mutant powers allow her to switch from man to woman? The person he's fallen in love with is young, petite, pretty, and female. Spencer is tall, shy, awkward, not in the least bit pretty, and most definitely male. Eventually, the secrets and lies become too much. The truth always comes out in the end. Will their relationship survive it?_

* * *

PROLOGUE

The day that Spencer Reid was born was a day of celebration for Diana Reid. She'd wanted a child of her own for so very long and getting pregnant hadn't been an easy task. With her illness and the medications that she had to take for it there had been considerable risk behind her getting pregnant. Not to mention the ways that the medication lowered her chances of conceiving. So when one month came around and that 'monthly visitor' hadn't showed up, she didn't even think that she might be pregnant. She and her husband had long ago lost hope of that. It wasn't until she was almost three months along that she finally went to the doctor and got the news. She'd gone in there hoping to figure out why her periods had vanished, thinking that it must be some side effect of the new medication she'd started, and walked out with the news that she was going to be a _mother_.

She and William had celebrated. Of course, William was worried about things. When didn't he? Bless the man, he always worried for her, looking after her like no one ever had. It was one of the things she loved about him. He took care of her without belittling her intelligence or strength. So though he was worried about this, he was also supportive, and he trusted her when she assured him that she and the doctors had talked this out and planned how to get her and the baby safely through the pregnancy. He trusted her and put his full support behind her. She didn't know how she would've made it through the pregnancy without him.

When her episodes came on, he was there for her, taking care of her and keeping her as calm as he could. When her paranoia was out of control, he patiently talked her down. Paranoid schizophrenia wasn't something that could easily be lived with without being managed by medication. It took a lot of dedication and hard work on both their parts. He was her rock; steady and strong. When the time came for their child to be born, a whole month early, he was the calm one, getting her to the hospital in plenty of time for their child to be born safely. He was there when their son was born. Spencer Reid, one month premature, didn't cry when he was brought into the world. Diana always laughed later and told people she knew from the get-go that her boy was smart. He was quiet from the minute he came out, those big brown eyes of his looking up at her like he was trying to figure her out. A tiny little thing, just five pounds eleven ounces, and he captured the hearts of his parents completely. When they brought him home a week later, after he spent a little time in the NICU to make sure he was safe from his premature birth, his parents were thrilled. They had their child they wanted, Diana was back on her medication, and everything seemed to be going right.

Spencer was two weeks old when he changed for the first time. Lucky for both his parents, they were there when it was discovered. To their embarrassment, they didn't notice at first. Nothing about Spencer looked all that different, as he was mostly swaddled in his blankets and still so small, so new. It wasn't until Diana had finished feeding him and William was changing him that they discovered what was going on. When William opened his son's diaper, he was stunned by what he found. Or, more accurately, what he didn't find.

"Di!" He called out, panic bright in his voice. "Diana!"

Of course Diana rushed over, afraid of what she would find, of what could've put that panic in her husband's voice. What she found wasn't at all what she expected. There, lying on the changing table, wasn't her little son, Spencer. It was a little _girl_. A happy, sleepy little girl, with the same chocolate eyes as their sweet little Spencer, the same wispy blondish-brown hair, even the same little birthmark on the inside of her left thigh. Only, _he_ was most definitely a _she_. Even with all of that, they still hadn't believed it, not right at first. But then—Spencer changed in front of them. While they stood there arguing over top of her, she let out a sharp cry, afraid of the loud voices, and her body _changed_. The little girl was gone and once more their little boy was lying there.

It was Diana who took it all in stride. Diana who reached out and changed Spencer's diaper and then swaddled her little child and gathered him up. William was the one who panicked.

"How is this possible?" He demanded. "Mutants don't even get their powers until puberty!"

"_Physical_ mutations are present from birth." Diana told him calmly. She held her baby up to her chest and smiled at the light coo that Spencer gave. "This is just Spencer's physical mutation. His—_their_—real mutation won't kick in until puberty."

"So he's going to have _another_ power?"

"I'd assume so. There are quite a few documented cases of physical mutations that are present from birth. Hair, skin color, eye color…"

"But, changing _gender_?" William cut in. He couldn't help his panic. All he could see was the tiny baby in Diana's arms, his son, who had just changed into a girl and back to a boy, who would grow up being one gender and both, like two different people in one body. A child who was going to live a hard, insanely hard life. Two worlds, two lives, one soul. To add in another mutation later, it just seemed too cruel. How different was Spencer going to be? How hard would Spencer's life become?

Still, it was William who took care of the practicalities. He'd always been the one to take care of things like that. When Spencer turned six months old, he was the one who got in touch with a few people that he couldn't exactly admit to knowing and he got the birth certificate forged for Penny Ann Ryans, born to Diana's cousin who had just passed away a moth earlier in a car accident. William had known it was a tragedy, but he also knew he had to protect his family, and this was a way to protect his child. He got the paperwork made that said she'd given birth months before her death and there was no one left around to contest it. She'd been alone, single, isolated from pretty much all family. A hermit. No one would know any better. He was also the one who took Spencer in to a doctor that he paid very well to keep quiet and got all the necessary testing done. When Spencer changed gender, it wasn't just that simple gender bit that changed. It was more than that. Fingerprints, blood work, all of it changed. Like twins, the doctor had said. Like identical twins, only boy and girl, and in one body. That had been when William knew he needed that birth certificate. If Spencer ever changed when he was older and something happened, he had to go to a hospital or a police station, there needed to be records of this other part of him. Proof that she existed. At the very least, he was grateful that there was enough there that people wouldn't draw her blood and come up with his records. They were separate enough to be two people, even if they were close enough to be considered identical twins.

As Spencer grew, they never had to explain any of this to him. The only explanation that they'd had to give was that he couldn't change in front of others. He'd never had any questions about having this other part of himself. He never seemed to feel or act different whether he was male or female. He really was the same little child inside; it was just the outer shell that changed. Because of that, he didn't understand at first why he had to be so careful. But he listened to Diana and he kept his changes private. He didn't show anyone and he didn't tell anyone. As he got older, he understood more. Understood that it wasn't all simple, black and white. He understood that he was different and accepted it. Lived with it. For him and Diana, it was no big deal.

For William, it slowly became too much. He'd stood by for so much. For the insane pregnancy, for his wife's illness—which got progressively worse as the years went by—and for this strangeness that was his son/daughter, he'd stood by them for it all. But some people can only handle so much. As Spencer got older, the changes more noticeable when he switched, and as Diana became sicker, it was too much. Too much for one man to handle. It wasn't his most shining moment, but William did what he felt he had to, before he went insane himself. He left. He left with one last fight and a single note. And for the first time in his life, Spencer doubted himself, and he wondered if maybe, just maybe, if he'd been a little more normal, if his father might've stayed.

That was the first time that Spencer truly felt just how different he really was.

Diana didn't care. That was what she told herself in the cold nights. She didn't care. Who needed a husband? She had her home, her books, her studies, and her beautiful child. There was nothing more that she needed. She and Spencer, they could stand against anything, even this. And when his powers came, when he hit puberty and his abilities manifested, they would handle that too. "We don't need him." She told Spencer, holding him to her chest and rocking him as she'd done since he was small. "He was weak, baby. He couldn't handle us. But we don't need him. We'll be okay. You'll be okay."

* * *

_If you guys are interested in this story, please let me know. I have a few chapters done but I wasn't sure if anyone would read something like this. If you think you'll like it, let me know, and once I get it either halfway done or finished up, I'll start posting the rest. Merci!_


	18. Scars

_The prompt I was given was this line "The mutant we were trying to stop goes by the name Catalyst. She…her mutation allows her to touch a person and transform them back to a certain age in their lives; a time that was emotionally unstable for them and a time that they haven't made some kind of peace with. "_

* * *

Everything hurt. That was all Spencer could think of as he woke up. Every inch of his body _hurt_. Grimacing, he put his hands down on the ground, pressing his palms flat. _Damn, it must've been a rough night_ he thought to himself. Worst part of it was, he couldn't seem to remember what had happened. With a groan, he opened his eyes. That was when several things suddenly became apparent. One, he wasn't in his room, though that wasn't too unusual. Two, he was outside. Again, not too unusual. Three, and this was extremely worrisome, he sure as hell wasn't somewhere familiar.

That was when he became aware of the others around him. Screeching cars and adults rushing all around and, right there at his side, two young kids looking beyond terrified. One looked about five while the other looked somewhere around three, maybe four. Both were shaking, their eyes wide with fear, and the young one was crying. There was blood on them, and bruises. That was enough to have Spencer moving, despite how much it hurt his body to do so. If there were hurt kids here, he wasn't going to just leave them sitting there, especially not in the midst of all this chaos. He dragged himself over to the kids. "Shh, shh. Hey now, everything's gonna be okay, guys." His voice was a little hoarse and he tried to clear it away.

There was movement nearby and Spencer reacted instinctively. Whatever was going on here, he had no idea, but the hell if he'd let whoever hurt these kids come and hurt them again. It didn't really register in his mind that whoever had hurt them might've hurt him too. That wasn't important. The children were what were important. Spencer flung himself across the last little bit of distance, placing his body between the kids and whoever was coming. He lifted his hand in preparation to fight, gathering the energy inside of himself. Whoever thought to hurt them was in for a nasty little surprise.

Shock snapped through him when he saw the figures in front of him stop. His eyes snapped over each person, trying to make sense of what he saw. They were in vests with the letters FBI emblazoned on them. FBI? These were _Feds_? What on earth were Federal Agents doing here? How the hell had he gotten involved in a situation with _Federal Agents_?

One of them, a dark skinned buff guy, took a step forward, his mouth dropping open. "Reid?" His voice was deep and shocked. "Is that you, pretty boy?"

How the hell did this guy know his name? That question snapped through Spencer's mind first. Right after it followed the thought that this strange guy, who _knew his name, _had called him 'pretty boy'. That gave him a small shiver of worry and had him tensing. Maybe for now it was better to stay in his protective stance. He felt the kids shift closer to him, clinging to their obvious protector. Spencer kept his weight propped up on one hand, his other still lifted threateningly. Better to act cocky then show them that he was afraid. He made his voice as hard as he could and snapped "Who are you? And how the hell do you know my name?" _Don't be weak. They can use weakness. Be strong, for the kids. Keep them safe._

One of the women with them, a pretty lady with blond hair, made a soft gasping sound and put her hand over her mouth. The two older men exchanged looks. But the dark haired pretty lady took a step toward him. "You don't recognize us?" she asked him carefully.

Okay, this was seriously starting to creep him out. Why would he recognize them? What was going on here? Spencer's shifted back just a little more in an unconscious effort to put some distance between them. "No." He said firmly. "Now, someone tell me what the fuck is going on here, or I swear, I'll blast my way out of here."

The guy with the facial hair and grey at his temples made a snorting sound, looking over to the guy with the hawk-like expression on his face. "Who would've guessed the kiddo had such a foul mouth on him?"

The darker skinned one shook his head. "We don't have time for this. Listen, Reid, you know us. Trust me, you do. But some shit went down here today. Now, we need to get you and those two kids behind you out of here before some bigger shit goes down. There's bigger assholes than us coming and trust me, the last thing we need is for them to get their hands on you." The guy held his hands out on either side to appear as non-threatening as possible. "I know you don't recognize me right now, but I need you to trust me. Use your telepathy, kid. Look at my head for a quick second and see that you can trust me. But we've got to go, _now_."

Things just got even creepier. The guy knew he was a mutant. Spencer scowled, but he didn't hesitate to do what the man said. A quick scan of his mind showed that he had no evil intent toward any of them. If anything, he wanted to protect them. There was so much more there that Spencer was tempted to look at, things that didn't make sense, but he didn't have permission to look there and this guy wasn't a threat. Spencer couldn't—_wouldn't_—forcefully read the mind of someone that wasn't a threat. Pulling back out, he made the only decision he could and nodded at the guy. "Fine. But anyone tries anything funny and you'll regret it—that's a promise."

"Deal, kid."

The guy—Spencer had seen his name was Derek Morgan in his mind—came over and held a hand out to him to help him up. After only a moment's hesitation, Spencer took it, pulling his aching body upwards. The younger of the two kids clung to Spencer while the other one stuck close. Spencer picked up the younger, a dark haired little boy, and pulled him up into his arms. That seemed to settle the kid some. "Let's go. And whenever we get where we're going, you all owe me an explanation."

Derek nodded at him. "Fine. But we've got to move, now. Hotch?"

The hawk guy—Hotch, apparently—nodded. "We'll go to my place."

And so Spencer found himself being rushed over to an SUV and put in the back with the two kids. Then Derek was in the driver's seat with the dark haired lady and they were being sped away. Spencer took advantage of the ride to take inventory of himself. The rest he would think on when they arrived; for now, he needed to know how badly he was hurt so he could plan how well he would be able to protect the children and himself. His right ankle felt twisted, but not broken. A careful shifting told him some ribs were probably bruised, or maybe even cracked. Nothing new. A bruise on his clavicle, left side. Random bruising and scratches. The right side of his face felt like a giant bruise. All in all, minor injuries. Nothing that would keep him from keeping them safe.

Then he turned his attention to the kids. Instead of speaking out loud and alerting the others in the car, he turned his attention to the older one, the sandy haired boy. _/Hey there, kiddo/_ Almost instantly he felt the kid's panic and rushed to soothe it._/Shh, shh, it's just me/_ He reached out with his hand to touch the kid's leg, trying to reassure him. Wide eyes snapped up to him and Spencer smiled and nodded. _/Yeah, me. I'm kind of special and I can talk to you in your head like this. All you have to do is think something back at me and I'll know it. How cool is that, huh?/_

For a second he got nothing from the kid. Then, a little smile, and he scooted a little closer. _/That's cool/_ came the hesitant thought.

Spencer wrapped his arm around the boy, who snuggled in further. _/My name's Spencer. What's your name?/_

_/Brian. Brian Elkins. I'm five years old/_

That had Spencer smiling. There was such pride in that. _/Well, nice to meet you, Brian! Can you tell me, honey, are you hurt anywhere?/_

The little boy seemed to think about it. He lifted his arm, showing a scratch there. Spencer smoothed his thumb over the scratch. _/Aww, I'm sorry. But you're being such a big boy! I haven't even seen you cry about it at all!/_

Their mental conversation got cut short when they pulled up at a house. Brian and the other boy cuddled in close while the car parked. Spencer unhooked them and, picking the dark haired one up, he scooted out of the car before helping Brian down. Brian clung to his hand tightly as they were led into the house. Everyone else came in with them.

The guy called Hotch looked over to Spencer once the door was shut. "My son's not home, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind if the boys went and played with his things for a while." He suggested. Unspoken was the message that it might be better for them to play in there while the adults talked. Spencer hesitated for a moment. It went against everything in him to just trust strangers. But when he'd been in Derek's mind, there had been something there, something that had left him feeling like this was a person he _could _trust. Spencer made a split second decision and squatted down by Brian. He set the other boy down beside him and looked at the two boys. "This guy here has a room full of toys for little boys to play with. Why don't you two go on in there and play a little while and I'll talk to these guys out here, hm?"

With the innate trust of children to adults, the kids nodded at him. Brian, however, seemed a tiny bit hesitant, unsure of all these people he didn't know. "Are my mommy and daddy coming soon?" he asked Spencer.

Smiling, he flicked his finger down Brian's nose, hiding his own inner ache. "I'll be sure to find out, honey. Now, go on and follow that man and go play for a while. You need me, you just think my name real loud and I'll hear you." Spencer lifted his finger and tapped it to his temple, winking at the kid. That was enough to have the kid grinning. Brian took the other boy's hand and led him off, following Hotch. The minute they were out of sight up the stairs, Spencer rose and turned a suddenly hard glare to the others. His stance was cocky and aggressive despite how much it hurt him to do so. "Now, I think it's time for an explanation. What the hell is going on here?"


	19. The Monster Within

Exhaustion was the primary thing that Spencer Reid felt. It tugged at every inch of muscle; down to the very marrow of his bones. Every step he took felt as if he was dragging lead weights with him. Yet continue to walk he did. The weight on his back felt as if it were getting steadily heavier and heavier but he never thought to put it down. That wasn't even an option. Step by step he went on. The snow he stepped in made walking difficult but it didn't stop him. What other choice did he have? He was better equipped to walk in this than the mutant child that rode upon his back.

The girl he carried was only five – she shouldn't have had to worry so strongly about her mutation yet. It just wasn't fair. Her abilities hadn't manifested, thank the Heavens, but her looks gave her away as a mutant. Light green skin with dark green patterns of dots around her eyes and down her arms, over the backs of her hands. Brown hair hung in waves down to her waist, with dark green threaded naturally through it, looking like ivy climbing through the soil. The same soil color was in her beautiful eyes. To Spencer, she was a beautiful, sweet little girl. To the men they were on the run from, she was a piece of property. As was Spencer.

Neya, she was called. He called her his fairy princess. And, as he told her, what was a fairy princess of nature without an animal guide?

Where Neya had been held by their captor because of her obvious physical mutation, so had Spencer. His wasn't colored skin or anything of the like. No, with that mutation he never would have been able to blend in to society. He never would have graduated school, or college, or joined the FBI, or become a profiler. His physical changes had never been constant.

Spencer could shape shift his body, but only into one form. Always it had been the same form.

A wolf.

When he was in what he thought of as his 'human form', the extra senses of the wolf stayed with him. Smell, sight, hearing, agility, strength….so many traits that a wolf naturally had. But they were sharper, stronger, when in this form. His wolf form. Always he'd been able to travel between the two forms at will. With a breath and a thought, he could shift from man to wolf, colored in the cinnamon colors of this type of the breed. But since his captivity, since the very end, the ability to shift at will was gone. He had become stuck in his wolf form.

Their captor hadn't known about his other mutation and that was the way Spencer had wanted to keep it. Using that other mutation now, he checked on Neya. _/Are you doing okay back there, Princess Neya?/_ he telepathically sent to her.

The arms around his neck tightened for a moment. "I'm cold, Spencer. Are we gonna be there yet?" she sighed into the scruff of his neck.

He never got the chance to answer her. Something hit the edge of his senses, drawing his attention. His body snapped taunt and his nose lifted so that he could scent the air. Almost instantly he started to growl. Eyes darting around, he saw only one solution. With a powerful leap he moved to a tall tree and stretched his body up, placing his paws on the tree. _/Climb up, Neya. Remember what we talked about. I need you to stay up there and do not come down for anyone but me. Cover your ears and close your eyes. Do you understand? I need to protect my Princess/_

"Okay, Spencey." With utter faith, she trusted in him and climbed his body like a ladder, stepping up into the branches of the tree and curling up there in her large coat, wrapping her arms around a part of the branch to hold on. Only once he was sure she was secure did he move away. Now that his charge was safe, he pushed off all bounds of exhaustion and braced his body for the fight he could feel coming. When the first mutant broke through the trees and Spencer saw who it was, his body went taunt and his hackles rose. He knew this mutant; that meant that he knew who the others were too. They'd come for him and Neya. The hell if they'd go back!

With a snarl, Spencer leapt.

* * *

Wiping his muzzle on the snow, Spencer tried to control the little whimpers that wanted to pull free. He fought hard to bring his body under control; to not lie down and whine and lick his wounds. They needed to get moving. The bodies of the three mutants he had fought were piled to the side in the snow, but there was no guaranteeing that they were all that was coming. He had to get him and Neya out of there, fast.

_/Neya, my little fairy. Are you still okay over there?/_ he asked her as he made his way to the tree.

Her little voice echoed down from her perch in the tree. "I'm okay! Spencey, are you okay? Where are you?"

_/I'm coming, sweetheart. I'm coming. But I need you to do me a big, big favor, okay? I need you to close your eyes for me. Just like we used to do, you remember? Close your eyes and don't open them until I tell you to/_ There had been countless times in their captivity that he had given her that order.

"But how am I supposed to get down without looking?"

The question was a good one. Tongue lolling out in a wolfish laugh, Spencer made his way over to the tree. It hurt—Shit, it _really_ hurt!—but he stretched his upper half up to the tree. _/Climb on, but look only at me, sweetie. Just at me. As soon as you're on, hold on tight and close your eyes. I'm going to run/_ He knew how much she loved it when he ran and that was exactly what he knew he needed to do now. By his calculations, they were only thirty miles, max, from their destination. He could scent the rising storm in the air and he knew that night was soon coming. He needed to get her in shelter before dark hit and he didn't trust a shelter in the woods. If their captor's henchmen were already catching up with them, than the forest was no longer safe.

Once Neya was settled on him, arms wrapped around him, Spencer gently brought his body down. _/Hold on, sweetie!/_ he told her. Then, ignoring the pain it caused, he pushed off from the snow and took off at a run, body darting through the woods. The laughter over his shoulder made all of the pain worth it. So long as he could preserve this little life on him, then all of this was worth it. It was worth every sacrifice he could make.

Running at the speed he was, he knew he'd tire his body out soon. He could only maintain this kind of speed for maybe twenty minutes across semi level ground. Right now he was carrying extra weight, was exhausted already, and he was injured. But he pushed his body as he saw the sun starting to reach the horizon. They would not spend another night in the woods.

When he finally saw his destination in a break through the trees, he almost howled out his relief. With an extra spurt of speed, he broke through the tree line and onto the yard. Up ahead he saw the giant house with its windows blazing in the slowly darkening sky. People were coming out of the house, making their way down the yard, running toward them. Spencer slowed from his run, his body demanding he stop. Sides heaving, he finally came to a stop in the grass, legs splayed slightly as he panted. His eyes looked forward, easily picking out those that were coming to him. As soon as he recognized two of them, he knew he was safe.

Neya slid off his back, moving to stand beside him. He could feel her shaking and didn't know if it was from the cold or from fear. He turned and nuzzled at her. _/It's okay, Neya. These are the people I told you about. See the woman there, with the white hair? Do you remember me telling you about her?/_

"Yeah." Neya said. She was watching the incoming people cautiously.

_/You can trust them, sweetie. Go to the woman with the white hair. She'll protect you, I promise. You can tell her about what happened. You can talk to these people. They won't hurt you. None of them will/_ He reassured her.

With the same strength of trust she'd shown him for so long now, Neya nodded and stepped away from him, taking off at a run toward the people right when they got close. Spencer watched as Storm, the white haired woman, bent down and caught Neya right as the little girl leapt at her. Something inside of Spencer eased a little then. He had made it. Neya was safe. Muzzle dropping down, Spencer let his tongue loll as he tried to catch his breath. His tail drooped down. Without thinking about it, he curled his left paw slightly, trying to keep from pressing it into the ground.

"Oh, you poor thing." A female voice said. Head snapping up, Spencer looked into the face of the woman he was pretty sure was Jean Grey. She was a few feet in front of him, squatting down in the snow so that they were eye level. "Logan, look at him. He looks hurt."

It took a second for Spencer to realize that they didn't know he was a man. Another moment passed before his exhausted brain made the connection why. The telepath in the house must have sensed Neya, but hadn't been able to sense him. All he would have gotten from Neya was that she was riding a wolf. Maybe they thought that was her mutation, to be able to tame animals. All it would take to correct that was to speak with this woman, but too many things over his captivity had made him cautious about showing all his abilities or about using them. His mind was the last thing he could protect as his own. It was the last thing that hadn't been violated. He hadn't allowed them access to his mind, or even knowledge of his mind speech, and survival instincts demanded that he do the same here. Keep the 'ace in the hole', as it were.

The one he knew was Wolverine, Logan, came walking forward. Spencer had to fight down the instinct to puff himself up in front of someone who was so obviously Alpha. Instead, he pushed down that inner instinct and did what he knew was necessary to get the man to trust him. Limping forward, he dropped his head down. When Logan crouched down, Spencer cautiously made his way forward. He heard the woman say something, but Logan held a hand out, gesturing for her to stay silent. His head stayed lifted and his gaze steady.

Spencer inched his way closer, lifting his muzzle when he got to him and nudging underneath Logan's chin. Cautiously he licked at the bottom of his chin and gave a soft whine. Every inch of his body was displaying submissiveness. He was trying to let Logan know that he wasn't a threat. Apparently, it worked. The man brought his hands up to smooth one over the top of Spencer's head while the other ran down over his spine. "Come on, boy. You want to go with the little girl?" Logan murmured to him. "Is that what you want?"

Whimpering, Spencer licked at his chin again and then turned to look to where Storm was carrying Neya toward the house. Jean made a soft sound. "Logan, we can't have a wild animal in the house, no matter the connection to the girl. You know that."

Up ahead, Spencer saw as Neya suddenly wiggled in Storm's arms until she was once more set on the ground. Then she raced forward, almost diving to Spencer, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He staggered from the force of the hug but he managed to keep his feet under him. Something was wrong with Neya. He could scent her tears. Turning his head, he nudged at her with his nose and whined. She clung tighter to him. "You said she was nice, but she said you have to stay outside!" Neya sobbed against him. "Don't leave me. I don't want you to stay outside! I want you to come in with me! Who's going to stop the bad people from getting me?"

Gathering as much energy as he could, Spencer nudged at her again and forced himself to use his telepathy, despite the daggers it put into his brain. _/They don't know I'm a human, sweetie. They think I'm just a wild wolf/_

"What?" Neya lifted her head to look at the people that were now surrounding them, gaping at them. "But he's not wild! He's my Spencey!"

"Child…" Storm started to say.

With a stamp of her foot, Neya cut them off. "No! He's my Spencey and he's coming with me. He told me so! I'm his fairy princess and he says every fairy princess needs an animal guide. He's my protector. He told me that this place was safe for people like us! You can't make him sleep outside!"

One of the others moved forward just a little and Spencer drew in a scent that was slightly spicy and slightly sweet. It was a pleasant scent. That figure moved just enough to kneel in front of them. "People like y', _petit_?" The man spoke with a thick Cajun accent that was almost musical. "Are y' telling ol Remy here dat dis wolf be a mutant, just like us? Dat he's a man in dere?"

The scornful look Neya gave him was amusing. "Duh! But the bad men did things and now Spencey's stuck. He told me he can't be human for a while."

"And how does he talk to y', petit?"

"In my head." Neya answered easily. She stroked a hand over Spencer's head and he sighed into the touch. "But he's really tired. Sometimes at night he gets too tired to talk in my head. He doesn't like to talk to other people, so I do it for him." Suddenly she was giving them all a little glare that made her that much more adorable. "He's not sleeping outside! The bad men might come back and hurt him again. He said you guys help people! He said you'd help us!"

The Cajun smiled at her in a gentle sort of way. "We will, petit. Why don't y' go back with m' Stormy and let her take y' someplace warm, yeah? Remy promises, he'll make sure y'r friend Spencey here is taken care of. Y've got m' word, petit."

Hesitant, Neya looked over at Spencer. He leaned in and licked her cheek before nudging her with his head, letting her know it was okay to go. After a moment's debate, she nodded. Then she hugged Spencer tightly one last time before taking off to Storm again. Spencer sighed when he saw the woman hurriedly take the child to the house. Good. Any further discussions could be done inside. She needed warmth and food, not to stand in the snow and debate things as night fell.

The one who'd called himself Remy was still squatting in front of Spencer, watching him through his sunglasses. "Remy can feel y'r hurting, _mon ami_. Can y' make it up to de house so we can look at y', or do y' need a lil help?"

Debating, Spencer tried to make himself move forward. His left paw kept having to curl so that he wouldn't put weight on it, making it more of a hop than a walk, but he was moving, albeit slowly. He heard a growl that carried a note of concern to it. "Forget this." Logan's deep voice said. He walked over and squatted at Spencer's side. "Brace, bub. I'm gonna carry you in. You're in no condition to walk all the way up there."

Spencer whined a protest, trying to keep moving. But Remy was in front of him again, blocking his path, and then Logan was reaching under him and lifting him gently into the air and Spencer had to fight the urge to howl. Pain ripped its way through him. As Logan shifted his weight, Remy groaned loudly and his voice cut through the night. "Get him to de house, Wolvie. _Merde_, de pain. He's hurt bad."

And then Spencer felt them moving. He couldn't fight anymore. Held tightly in Logan's arms, nose buried against his arm to take away the sudden sharp scents, Spencer just let himself be carried into the house.

* * *

When the arms holding him shifted, Spencer woke back up from the haze his mind was in. The sharp medical smell reached him and all his exhausted brain could think was _NO_! They'd gotten free! How had he gotten back here again? Where was Neya? Panic kicked in full force. As soon as he touched a hard surface, his body bunched and he made a wide leap from the table.

Agony spread up his legs when he landed, his front left paw giving out and making him slide on the ground. He pushed himself back up quickly and stared around the lab, snarling loudly. His hackles rose and his ears laid back as his tail pointed out.

"_Non, non_! Stop!" A voice cried out.

Spencer looked around him, seeing multiple bodies. But his head was swimming and it was so hard to focus on them all. He couldn't seem to make them out. What had he been given? What the hell had the bastard given him this time?

Again came that voice, almost familiar in a way. "Y'r scaring de _homme_! Back off f' a minute. He's terrified, can't y' see it?" Then there was movement and that voice came a little closer. "Spencey. Listen to m' voice. It's Remy, _mon ami_. Y' remember? We met outside. Y' brought y'r lil fairy princess to us here. Y'r with de X-Men, _homme_. Y' aint with dem others no more. Y'r safe."

The X-Men? He'd made it? His brain tried to think but everything seemed to be in a fog. He felt as the one that called himself Remy moved forward. His scent wasn't dangerous. If anything, it was pleasant. When hands touched him, Spencer growled, but he held still, allowing those hands to stroke over him. They felt so soothing.

"Dat's it, cher. Remy just wants to help y', _d'accord_? Just want to fix y' up. Y' been hurt, cher. We're gonna help y'."

As those hands continued to stroke over him, Spencer lost the ability to understand what the man was saying. But the gentle murmur stayed with him, soothing him, as his body finally gave up the fight and slipped into unconsciousness. The last thing he remembered was someone crying out and his body starting to fall.


	20. Can't Hide Anymore

_prompt: reveal_

* * *

How had this happened? How had everything just gone to hell? This had been what had started out as a simple case for the BAU. They'd hunted their killer—a man who was hunting children—and they had found him after only three days. With the address to where the Unsub was holding the kids he had, the team had deployed with local cops and SWAT to this warehouse, prepared to apprehend him. Everything had been running smoothly. They'd had no way of knowing just how badly it would all go once they got there. Their profile was accurate, down to a letter. There was just one thing they had missed—one thing they'd had no way of being able to predict. Nothing in the man's actions had suggested it.

Their Unsub was a mutant.

That little fact hadn't come out until it was almost too late. Officers were spread out all around and the man was standing, three children in a cage behind him, and the Unsub was laughing. At a different time, they might have thought that it was just a sign of his insanity. The man wasn't surrendering, wasn't fighting back, nothing. He was just standing there and laughing and daring them to come for him. Then he'd lifted his hands up to the sky and everything around them had gone to hell. Blue fire shot from his hands, blasting through the roof, and the officers and SWAT members panicked.

Spencer saw the panic travel over the room. He saw the instant fear that the Unsub's display invoked. But he also saw the one thing that the panic was blinding everyone to—guns were being readied and they were all preparing to fire and no one seemed to realize that shooting the Unsub would also fire on the children behind him. Their lives would be lost. And he would bet that was all part of the Unsub's plan. It was one of those moments that defined a person. Spencer saw what was going to happen and he saw the only thing that he could do to save those children. He also knew what it would do to him to do it. Yet, there was never any doubt that the prize was worth the cost.

Without hesitation, Spencer lowered his gun and shot forward as fast as he could. He put all his strength into leaping forward right as the gunfire started and shouts echoed around him. His teammates screamed his name. None of it mattered. Spencer lifted his hands as he dove to the cage. One hand grabbed the bar closest to him to brace on while the other lifted and was held, palm out, toward the Unsub and the officers. A bright blue light flared at his hand before growing out. Even as it grew, Spencer felt it as something hit his side like a hammer. Pain filled him and he fought back the urge to cry out. He let go of the bars of the crate and raised his other hand as well, adding to the blue light until there was a perfect shield in front of him, protecting him and the children. The bullets hit the shield and dropped down to the ground.

The Unsub had jumped up when bullets started to fly, using the fire from his hands as a sort of propulsion, firing it down to the ground. At the sight of Spencer protecting the children, he lifted a hand and Spencer knew the fire was going to come his way. He knew it and fought to strengthen his shield, praying it would be strong enough to withstand that fire. He never had to find out. Just before the man blasted, a red laser slammed into his chest, knocking him into the wall. The fire from the man's hands went flying crazy, blasting here and there as he hit.

Chaos was reigning inside the warehouse. Through his light, Spencer saw strange people rushing the room and he knew in a flash who it was. X-Men. X-Men had arrived. That was all the time he had to think on that, though. The local officers were still firing his direction and Spencer was fighting to hold his shield up strong and keep the children behind him safe. Couldn't the idiots see that they could hurt the children? Of course not! All they were thinking of was taking out a mutant! The BAU team was shouting, trying to stop them, but a sort of mob mentality seemed to have taken them over.

A scream behind him drew Spencer's attention away from the guns in just enough time to see that a fireball flew his way. He moved his right hand, thrusting it to the side, stretching his blue light out wider. The fire hit and he grunted under the impact, the force of it pressing his back against the cage. He heard the children cry out and he threw more energy into the shield, praying it would hold as another fireball flew.

Someone came racing up to the edge of Spencer's shield and he was ready to shove them back when he saw that it was one of the X-Men, Wolverine. Spencer waited until he was right by the shields before dropping that edge and allowing the man to the cage. "Get them out!" He shouted to him.

Wolverine wasted no time in slicing the lock off the cage and pulling the kids out from inside. Spencer held his shields tight as Wolverine tore out of the cage and raced with the children off to the sidelines where they'd be safe. Freed from protection detail, Spencer turned toward the Unsub. He'd already revealed himself; what more damage could it cause to help stop the man? But before he even fully turned, he saw he was too late. One of the officers' bullets finally found a home, burying in the Unsub's chest and sending him flying to the ground. That should have been the end of it.

It wasn't. Of course it wasn't.

Spencer once more found himself in the position of seeing a coming horror and knowing that he had to stop it. _Son of a bitch_. The uncharacteristic curse floated through his mind. _If I believed in such things, I'd think someone was working against me today._ The mental whining didn't stop him from doing what needed to be done. Even as he complained inside his head, he shot forward again, one hand wrapping around his waist to hold his side where he knew he was still bleeding, his other hand taking the shield and extending it out. Purposely he threw himself between the humans and the X-Men, planting his feet on the ground and shoving as much energy as he could into making a solid blue wall in front of his hand, protecting them from the bullets that fired. "That is _enough_!" he shouted out as loudly as he could. "Everyone, enough! Stop!"

"Freeze!" The voice of Aaron Hotchner echoed over to him, sharp with command. "Everyone freeze! Do not fire!"

There were more shouts and then silence before Spencer heard Derek call out "It's safe, Reid!" No matter what, he knew he could trust Derek. The man wouldn't knowingly put anyone in danger. So Spencer pulled in his power, trusting that a man he'd called friend for years now wouldn't set him up. Unfortunately, letting go of that power took away some of his personal energy and he couldn't stop the way his legs seemed to melt underneath him, dropping him to his knees. When hands touched him, he didn't fight at first, thinking it was simply Derek. His friend had been right in front of him, just on the other side of his shielding. But the hands didn't feel right and Spencer opened his eyes to find someone he didn't know kneeling beside him, hands trying to brace his shoulders. When he looked up, his heart gave a painful throb to see that not a single member of his team had moved toward him. They had protected him, but they weren't moving toward him now. If anything, they seemed to be keeping a safe distance.

Spencer fought to push his heartache down. Right then and there he promised himself they would never know just how badly this hurt him. He used the hands that were on him—he thought the person was Colossus, though the man was in his human form so he wasn't sure—to help bring him to his feet once more. One of his hands stayed curled over his wound, trying to keep it as hidden as possible. Letting his mask slip into place, Spencer looked at each member of his team, at people he had counted as more than friends. They had been his family. Now…now they looked at him like he was a stranger. "Get the kids to the hospital." He told them. Thankfully, nothing leaked into his voice. His words were calm and flat without a hint of any of his inner turmoil. "They need the medical attention. I'm going to go gather my things from the hotel."

When they said nothing to him, his heart broke a little more. He pulled away from the person still holding on to him and he made his way toward the side door of the warehouse. Someone called after him—he had no idea who it was and he didn't recognize the voice at all—but he kept walking. That was all he could do right now; just keep walking. It took a lot of his concentration just to manage that. Putting up such strong, wide shields while injured had taken a goodly amount of his inner energy and he felt like a car that was running close to 'E'.

He was only feet out the door and into the night when someone called out a deep "Hey, bub!" behind him. His reaction was purely instinctual. Without giving any thought to it, Spencer did the one thing that had saved his life countless times before. He ran. Curses filled the air behind him before there were the sounds of pursing footsteps. More than one set, it seemed. _Shit_! Absently Spencer thought to himself that he was cursing more in his mind tonight than he usually did. Then he threw all of his attention into running and not passing out. The wound in his side throbbed each time his foot impacted with the ground and the world seemed to be trying to spin around him, making his steps a little more faltering. Still, he had quite a bit of practice at running and his long legs ate up the pavement, carrying him further and further away from his pursuers.

One thing he'd learned as a child was that he couldn't run indefinitely. Usually the person chasing him was stronger, older, more physically fit. All he had on his side were long legs, speed, and a quick mind. The only way to survive was to use those to find a place to hide until his pursuers were gone. That was what he did now. His eyes scanned around him and he tried to find the best possible place to hide. He didn't give himself time to think about _who_ was chasing him, only about getting the hell away from them. That in mind, he turned to the right, jumping over a crate there and darting into the door of yet another warehouse.

Unfortunately, it wasn't just one person chasing him, but a group. When Spencer was halfway across the warehouse, the door in front of him opened and two people darted in. Just barely did he manage to skid to a stop, turning on his heel to take off the other way. Then that door opened and people spilled in there as well. Son of a bitch! Spencer didn't let himself overthink this. Instinct took over and had him moving sideways, allowing him to watch both groups at once. His one hand held tighter to his waist, trying to stem the bleeding still while his other hand lifted and a ball of blue energy built there. He made his voice as firm as he could make it, pulling up the mask he'd perfected over the years. "I have no quarrel with you. Just step away and let me go and this can all be over."

One of the people stepped forward and Spencer got his first real look at who was after him. The visor the man wore made that clear enough; that was Cyclops. One of the X-men. Spencer tried to look at the others, to see if they too were X-Men, but blood loss and using his energy were combining together and his vision was slightly blurred. Only sheer will was keeping him on his feet right now.

Cyclops held his hands out on either side of him while he took a few steps toward Spencer. "We have no quarrel with you either. We simply want to help you."

"I don't need help." Spencer insisted. _Liar_ his mind taunted him.

Someone snorted and moved up by Cyclops. After a second of blinking, Spencer realized who it was. Wolverine. "Yer bleeding, bub. I can smell it. Why don't ya just suck in some pride and let us help ya?"

_Because all help comes with a price and I can't afford to pay anything to anyone else. I've got nothing left to pay with._ "Because helping me isn't the only reason you came. It's obvious I'm a mutant just as the vest I'm wearing clearly labels me FBI. _That_ is what sent you after me." He knew he was being irrational. He knew that he wasn't thinking clearly. If he'd been in a clear mind, he would've taken their help, knowing that he needed it. He definitely wouldn't have pushed at them like this. But he wasn't thinking clearly. He was hurting, inside and out, and the instinct to defend had been triggered and all he could think of was getting out of here and finding somewhere to take care of himself. Being weak around others was not allowed. If you were weak around others, that was when they could hurt you the most. He wouldn't hand that power over to anyone. If he was weak now, there was no telling what they would do. The government had hurt them quite a bit; would they hesitate to take him and keep him as a prisoner? Even though he was a mutant, he was an FBI agent. _Well, you were._ "Well, you can see, I'm useless to you, whatever it is you want me for. You saw my team. I may've been FBI, but I definitely am not any longer. You gain nothing by taking me, so let me be."

"We're not seeking to gain anything here." Cyclops kept his voice low and soothing. "We saw the way they were. We know you're alone and we know you're hurt. Let us help you, please. Let us get you medical attention at least."

"Why?" _Nothing comes for free_.

Cyclops took another cautious step forward. "Because you're hurt and I can't walk away from someone I can help. Because we know what it's like to be shunned for being a mutant. Because you were hurt defending those children. Because I have a feeling you sacrificed your life, your secret, just to keep those kids safe. Because you need someone right now and who else are you going to trust but people who are like you?"

Looking at him, Spencer knew he had no real choice. Scott was right; he did need someone right now and he did need medical attention. Even as the cynical part of him screamed to trust no one, the rest of him knew he had to. Slowly he drew his energy back into himself until it no longer floated over his hand. The loss of that energy coursing in him had him stumbling slightly. Wolverine moved the fastest, darting out and catching him as he started to stumble. The world spun slightly and Spencer felt the adrenaline crash starting to hit, combining with the blood loss so that the world seemed to fade in and out. The last thing he heard before he gave in to the blackness was a gruff voice saying "I got ya, kid."


	21. Where Are You?

_Hey everyone. This is a quick prompt fic for a friend of mine. Her prompt (shortened down a little for you) was basically "Ten years ago, Spencer and Remy left their old lives behind to start a new one, together. Now, with Remy missing and his family being followed, Spencer turns to the only people who might be able to help him bring his husband home." Let me know what you think! Warnings for Mpreg and slash *grins*_

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This was the very last thing he wanted to do. Fingers curled around the steering wheel, Spencer stared up at the house that was looming in the distance. Who knew a house could seem so damn intimidating? The more he looked at it, the more he wanted to turn around and run away. Drive as far as he could in the other direction. He didn't want to go here, didn't want to see these people. He especially didn't want to ask them for help. But what real choice did he have? There was nowhere else to go. No one else that he could turn to; not for something like this. He had no other options. This was what was best for his family. This was his best hope for keeping them safe.

His eyes drifted up to the rearview mirror to yet again check the back of the van. Remy had bought them this black Nissan passenger van a few years back when their family really started to grow. They really needed the space it provided. It still stunned Spencer sometimes when he stopped and just looked at his family.

A little over ten years ago, Spencer and Remy had fallen from friendship to dating after a half-drunken night in bed had revealed feelings on either side. They'd woken up in Spencer's bed the next morning and, after a bit of talk, had decided to see where things went. Neither one had expected to find out just a month later that Spencer was pregnant. But neither one could find themselves being anything but happy. For Remy, it was no difficult choice to leave the mansion and the X-men behind. Since the Trial, since he'd been left to die in Antarctica, since his return to the mansion and his less than happy reception, he'd been adrift and aching, unsure of what to do or where to go with his life. This gave him a purpose and a place. It was just as easy for Spencer to make his decisions, too. He left the Bureau; he'd already seen too many times just what kind of things could happen to the family members of agents. That wasn't something he was going to let happen to his family.

The two were married in a quiet, private ceremony when Spencer was six months pregnant. They moved to a cozy, private house on the outskirts of Baltimore, close enough to still be able to see their friends from the BAU. The move was finalized and finished in just enough time for the birth of Summer Lynn and Margaret Mary. Two happy, healthy, beautiful little girls. The boys couldn't have been happier.

Being one of the rare males capable of getting pregnant, Spencer had always known that he'd have a family someday. It was a quiet want of his that he'd nurtured close to the heart. He was always nervous about it—no one knew better than him just how awkward he could be around children. To his surprise, he took to it amazingly well. It was so different when the children were your own. He still got nervous, but there were vast amounts of love to make up for it, and it always managed to work out.

However, he'd never expected his family to be quite _this_ large. Just two years after the girls were born, their next two children came along; one born to them, and one brought to them. Just months before Tristan Eliot was due, the boys had a surprise visitor. Belle showed up at their house with a sullen eleven year old mutant orphan in tow, who had the ability to control and use the dark around him, both as a shield and as a weapon. He was the son of an assassin who had died to keep Belle safe and she had felt it her duty to find him a good home. For some reason, she hadn't kept him for herself. She'd brought him to them and requested that Remy apprentice the boy. Spencer and Remy hadn't even needed to think. They'd taken in the young man and never once regretted it. Though his looks gave him away as not being theirs—mocha colored skin, with black hair and dark eyes—they'd never once treated him as anything less than theirs. It took a few years for it to sink in for him that he wasn't just an apprentice, though Remy did train him. He really was a part of the family.

It was Benji's first Christmas there that Remy had brought home the next member of their family—a dog. A young, mixed breed puppy that someone had been getting rid of and that he couldn't resist. Spencer, despite his discomfort with dogs, found that he couldn't say no when his husband surprised them all with the puppy and he saw the absolute joy on the children's faces. So, their family had grown by one more. Though, none of them had quite expected this mixed breed little puppy to get quite so large. He'd gone from being able to fit in Spencer's lap—he always seemed drawn to Spencer, though a loud bark from him could still make the genius jump out of his skin sometimes—to standing so tall at his side. There was quite a bit of mastiff in his features, which accounted for the size, they figured.

But he was a dream with the kids and he adored Spencer, which fit Remy's needs perfectly. He'd gotten the dog as a way to watch out for his family when he had to travel. Travel wasn't a constant thing, but it did happen. While he was gone it helped Remy feel a little better to know that he had a bit of extra protection around the house. Spencer always rolled his eyes at that, but he said nothing. Just as he said nothing when, a few years later, Benji came home with a stray kitten following at his heels who, for some reason, wouldn't leave, no matter how many times they put him out. By the end of the week, they were calling him Watson and their family was one little kitten larger.

So, their family had grown quite a bit by then. Summer, Maggie, Tristan, and Benji, Mycroft, and now Watson. Spencer was happy, happier than he'd ever been, and so was Remy. Spencer put himself on birth control, figuring that their family was large enough by then.

Three years later, Mikayla Grace was born. Two years after that came Cordelia Ann. And then, just two months ago, the birth of their final daughter—Joya Margot.

This was it, Spencer had told Remy when he was pregnant with Joya. This was enough. Five pregnancies and seven children was more than enough for any one person. When they delivered her, the doctors stayed in and tied things off, making sure that Spencer wouldn't ever be able to carry another child. And they were happy with it. They were content. Their family was large, so much larger than Spencer had ever expected it would be. Seven children, a dog, a cat, and a pet frog.

Benji was seventeen now, Summer and Maggie were ten now, Tristan was eight, Mikayla was five, Cordelia—Dee—was three, and Joya just months old. It had been ten years since the two had left their old lives behind. Ten wonderful, happy years.

Then fate decided to drag them back into it.

Remy had gone on a business trip to do a security consultation down in Baton Rouge. While down that way, he and Belle had gotten together. Spencer knew that because he'd spoken to Belle two weeks ago, the day after Remy was supposed to have been home. She'd seen him, she said, and he'd been fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. Spencer had checked with the client as well and had been assured that Remy had been there, done his job, and then left. Only, when Spencer finally broke down and called Penelope, asking her to run a check for him, there were no records of Remy ever getting on his flight home. There was no footage that day at the airport of him, either. There were records that showed him checking out of his hotel but after that it was as if he'd vanished off the face of the earth.

For two weeks now Spencer had been searching. He'd called up his friends, pleaded for their help. Though the team wasn't together anymore—Dave had retired again, Derek was heading his own team now with Garcia and JJ still there, Aaron was now training at the academy, and Emily was overseas—none of their combined efforts had been able to find Remy. It was like he'd up and vanished.

Then, Spencer had started to notice something. He'd thought he was just being paranoid at first. Who wouldn't be paranoid with their husband missing? Only, he wasn't the only one to notice it. Benji came home from the store one day and pulled Spencer aside to let him know that he'd been tailed. They were being watched.

Over the past ten years Spencer had mostly stayed away from the Bureau. He occasionally did consultations but not all that often. His family kept him busy. However, he wasn't so far out of the game that he couldn't see what was right in front of him. Remy was missing, unable to be found by any Bureau resources, and now they were being followed? Someone was after their family. Judging by the level of skill in all this, it was someone powerful, and he doubted they had anything good in mind.

There was only one thing that Spencer could think of to do. One thing that he could come up with that might be able to help find his husband and save his family. He and Remy had talked before about what to do in the case of an extreme emergency. This certainly qualified.

In the middle of the night, Spencer gathered up his family and everything that they would need and loaded them into the passenger van. He left a single playing card on a clip on the fridge—a sign for Remy, if he came home, to let him know where they were. Then, using Benji's abilities with the dark to help shield and steer them, they slipped past the guard on the house and out of the city.

That was how Spencer found himself here, pulling up to the home of the very people that he'd always sort of hated. He could still remember, clear as if it happened yesterday, just how upset and tired Remy had looked when he'd showed up at his apartment all those years ago. How beaten down he'd been from the life he'd lived at the mansion. He remembered how much the people here had hurt Remy with their anger and mistrust, with their accusations and their jokes they probably thought were funny. Remy felt so much deeper than people gave him credit for. Things that they'd probably thought were innocent teasing had actually hurt the man inside. The light that had always been in Remy's eyes, the one that Spencer had fallen in love with back when they first became friends back in college, had been almost completely dimmed. And these people were largely to blame for that. Over the years, Remy had forgiven them. But a part of Spencer never had.

He needed their help, though. There was nowhere else he knew to go. For the sake of his husband and their children, he would do whatever he had to. Even work with these people. Besides, there was one person here that Spencer trusted. The only person that Remy had maintained any contact with. The one who had hunted them down two years after Remy left just to make sure that Remy was okay. It was to him, mostly, that Spencer was going now.

The children were pretty much asleep when Spencer finally brought the van to a halt near the front door of this giant house. They'd left a little after two a.m. and it was an almost four hour car drive, making it just shy of six. While their house usually rose and started around six thirty or seven, the car ride had worked to keep all the kids asleep. Luck of luck, even two and a half month old Joya stayed asleep the whole trip.

Benji, however, woke the instant that Spencer turned the car off. The kid was almost as light a sleeper as Remy was and he woke just as alert as Remy did. His dark eyes immediately found Spencer's in the early morning light that filled the car. Spencer made a small gesture at him to let him know to stay quiet. "I don't want to wake everyone up right yet." He said softly, sneaking a look at his sleeping family. "Will you stay with them while I go to the door? I won't go inside without you guys."

"Go ahead, Dad." Benji murmured back in that slow drawl of his. His accent was there, though it wasn't as thick as Remy's was. He had no problems with his 'yous', nor did he use near as much of the broken French and Cajun like Remy did, but his 'th' still often came out with the 'd' sound to it, or minus that 'h'. Then again, so did most of the kids.

The 'Dad' had only come in the past few years and it still thrilled Spencer a little to hear it from the teen. Reaching out, he patted Benji's arm, gave him a soft smile, and then looked at the other kids one more time before climbing out of the van as quietly as possible.

Someone had seen their arrival; they'd been buzzed through the front gates without having to even press the speaker button there. So it wasn't any real surprise when the door opened before Spencer even reached it.

The person who answered the door wasn't someone that Spencer recognized. Then again, he hadn't known a lot of the people here while Remy was here. Remy had mostly kept Spencer away from anything involving the X-Men. Even before the Trial, he hadn't trusted them enough for that. "Not enough to put y' at risk." He'd told Spencer. "An Remy aint giving dem de idea dat dey're gonna have some contact in de Bureau now dat dey can use. Dere aint no reason dey need to know about y'."

"Can I help you?" The guy holding the door asked politely. He looked close to Spencer's age, somewhere in his thirties, with short cut blond hair and blue eyes that were both curious and cautious.

Spencer smoothed his hands over the front of his sweater and tried to keep them steady. "Is Logan here?" Please, please, let him be here. If he had Logan with him, the rest of it would seem easier. He'd be more sure that they'd be safe, that no one could turn them away.

"I think he's down doing his morning workout right now." The guy said, with just enough hesitation for Spencer to easily figure out that 'morning workout' translated to 'training session'.

"Please." Spencer said, swallowing his pride. "I know it's early, but it's extremely important. Can you get him, please? Tell him that Spencer's here. He'll come."

The guy hesitated only a moment longer before stepping back and holding the door wide. "Come on in. You can wait where it's warm while I go get him."

But Spencer was already shaking his head. "My family's out in the van and I'd rather not leave them. Just…just send him outside, please?"

That earned him a strange look. Then the guy nodded. "Sure thing. I'll be right back."

Spencer made his way back over to the van while he waited. It was a good thing, too, as he could see when he got close that Benji was twisting in his seat, reaching into the back. Just as Spencer got back to the driver's door, Benji was straightening back in his seat with a fussing Joya in his arms. He looked up as Spencer opened the door. "I think someone's a bit hungry."

He held his arms out and easily took the swaddled bundle. Cradling her in the crook of one arm, he used his other hand to better tuck the blanket around her. It wasn't extremely cold, but there was an early morning chill in the air. He smiled softly down at the bleary brown eyes that peeked up at him. Of all the kids, Joya looked most like him with brown hair and brown eyes. Summer and Maggie both had brown curls, but their eyes were red irises with white sclera, while the other three looked like spitting images of Remy. Up until Joya, the running joke amongst their friends had been that the kids looked like Spencer had almost nothing to do with them. But little Joya, she looked so much like him, and Remy had adored that about her from the minute she was born.

Humming softly to soothe the little fussing noises she was making, Spencer swayed a little in place, sneaking a look back to make sure the others were still out. Luckily, they were. The only one that looked awake was Mycroft. The dog had risen up from his spot on the floor—they'd taken a seat out of the van to make a spot just for him to lay—and he was looking around him briefly before he laid his head back on Mikayla's lap.

"Dey're okay." Benji said, though he knew Spencer could see that for himself. Gesturing towards the house with his chin, he asked "What's up?"

"The one who answered the door is going to get Logan for me. He's here."

That had Benji relaxing a little. "Good."

As if their talking about him had summoned him, the front door was yanked open and Logan came hurrying outside. One look and he was hurrying towards them. The worry was easy to see on his face. He knew they wouldn't be here unless it was an emergency. Spencer stepped away from the van to meet him halfway. Logan didn't even wait that long to ask "What happened? Are you guys okay?"

Spencer moved right up to his friend and twisted Joya to the side so that he could step into the hug Logan immediately pulled him into. Over the years, Logan had stopped by a few times. Ever since he found Remy he'd refused to just let him go. Logan was a part of their family. "I tried calling you, but it went straight to voicemail." Spencer said as he pulled back.

"I lost my phone on the last mission." Logan's eyes shot over to the van and then back to Spencer, sharp and intense. "What's going on, kid?"

He didn't sugarcoat it or try to beat around the bush at all. Not with Logan and not over something like this. "Remy's missing." He said bluntly. There was only a slight catch in his voice, quickly shoved down. "He didn't come home from his last job. It's been close to three weeks now, Logan, and I can't find signs of him anywhere. We were being watched, too. Just the past few days. But they were following us, watching the house. I had to have Benji use his powers to help us slip out this morning. I just, I'm sorry, but I didn't know where else to go or what to do."

"Don't be sorry, Spencer. You did right, comin' here. We'll find him." There was such confidence in Logan's voice. It gave Spencer something to latch on to; something to help hold him together.

A soft whine from Joya brought the attention of the adults back to her. It had Spencer rocking slightly and Logan straightening up. "C'mon," He said. "Let's get you guys in where it's warm. We aint gonna figure things out standing out here."

This was one of those moments that Spencer was glad the kids were heavy sleepers. In a house full of people, they were all quite used to noise, though they had their quiet moments. They were all also used to being picked up and moved if they happened to fall asleep somewhere. Logan easily scooped up Dee and Mikayla with only minimal disturbance. Benji gathered up Tristan in his arms, settling the boy on his hip. Tristian didn't stir, just buried his face in against Benji's neck and stayed sleeping. But Summer and Maggie, they had to wake. They didn't have much of a choice. The girls didn't seem to mind, either. They woke pretty cheerfully, a trait they most definitely didn't get from Spencer, and both of them lit up at the sight of Logan. "Grumpy!" Summer called happily, scrambling at her belt to unhook herself.

Tristan had been the one to start the nickname 'Grumpy' for Logan. All because he'd heard Remy teasingly call Logan a grumpy grandpa one night. From then on, Grumpy was what Tristan called him, and it had stuck around. Logan pretended to grumble over it sometimes, only managing to reinforce the title, but they all knew how much he enjoyed it. The gruff, grumpy feral doted on the kids.

"Hey, peanuts." Logan said with a smile. He Dee back a little on his hip to make room for first Summer and then Maggie to slip in and give him a quick hug.

Spencer grabbed the diaper bag and slung it over one shoulder before reaching in and detaching the car seat, turning it into a simple infant carrier. A quick click of the tongue brought Mycroft and Watson out of the van. Mycroft immediately went to Spencer's side, leaning against him in that way he had, while Watson came out and circled lazily around Benji's feet. It was amusing sometimes to see just how much the grey cat would cling to Benji. Then again, it wasn't anywhere near as much as the way Mycroft would cling to Spencer.

"Follow me." Logan told them. "We can go in to my office. There's space to talk and for the pups to play."

"You have an office?" Benji teased him.

Logan mock-growled at the teen. "Watch it, bub. I'm a respectable teacher now."

"_Dieu_ help de children, den."

Together, the group made their way inside, and a small bit of Spencer's tension eased. He wasn't alone in this. For all his friends help before, they had their own lives, their own jobs, and they weren't the sharp team of profilers they'd used to be. But Logan—he was family. He would care just as much about getting Remy back as Spencer did. He wouldn't stop until the Cajun came home.


	22. Past History

_This was from a verse I made where Spencer and Remy worked together for Sinister back in the day. Spencer had already worked for Sin when Remy showed up, and Remy got put on Spencer's team, so to speak, and they worked together on missions right up until the Massacre, after which the two both left, going their separate ways. Then, years later, they come together again when a BAU case and an X-Men case collide, and the target ends up being Scott, and it all shows connections to an old enemy that the boys know. Spencer goes back with Remy to the mansion to help protect Scott and help figure out who this enemy is._

_This isn't edited yet, or fully put together, but it's a short bit to see how many of y'all would be interested in this idea :) Let me know!_

* * *

"We've got some people that are going to help us out. Discreetly." Aaron Hotchner told his team. He looked around the hotel room, watching their faces. "That's why I called you in here to tell you. The last thing we need is the LEO's to get up in arms about this. The people we're meeting with are mutants. Instead of working separately, I think we could help one another, but we all know how the police and the Bureau look on things like this."

"Where are we meeting them at?" Morgan asked. None of them were the least bit bothered by Aaron's words. They trusted him.

"They should be here any moment. We agreed that meeting here at the hotel was the safest, to minimize the possibility of it getting back to the locals."

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Dave was the one to walk forward and answer it. Emily and JJ turned from where they were standing by the beds; Derek and Spencer were standing by the window. They turned as well, watching as Dave greeted the people on the other side of the door before opening it and letting them inside. Spencer watched curiously, wondering who the mutants would be. He never expected who came inside.

Shock had his mouth dropping open. He stared across the room at the duo that walked in. One of them he knew by reputation—the Wolverine. Who didn't know that man's reputation? However, he wasn't the one that held Spencer's attention. No, it was the man beside him, dressed in blue jeans, a black mesh shirt, and a trench coat. For a moment Spencer only stared as a wealth of memories swamped him. Then, despite it all, he found himself grinning. "Do mine eyes deceive me?" He called out over the room. "The Ragin Cajun, working on the side of good? Working with _Feds_? Is this some parallel universe?"

The whole room was watching now as a wide grin split across the man's face and his gaze shot over to Spencer. "Has to be." That smooth Cajun voice said. "De Showboy's a Fed. _Dieu_, dey let anyone in to de Bureau dese days if dey're taking a Vegas street rat."

For a second longer the two stared. Then the man flung his arms open and grinned wider. "Get y'r sexy ass over here, cher, and give dis Cajun some _amour_."

Spencer didn't even think about the people watching. He strode forward and right into his arms. The two hugged tightly before pulling back. Spencer brought his hands up, framing the man's face and pulling him down the few inches for a loud kiss that surprised the room almost as much as when they saw the other man reach his hands down and cup Spencer's ass, yanking him close for the kiss. When they pulled apart, Spencer was still grinning. "You look good, Rem. Real good."

"Y'r looking damn good y'rself, cher. De years been treating y' well."

The sound of someone clearing their throat brought their attention back to the rest of the room. Blush heated Spencer's cheeks as he looked at his team, all of whom were watching him with amusement and surprise. "Sorry, guys." He apologized quickly. "This is an old friend of mine…." Pausing, he looked to him, unsure how to introduce them.

Laughter tickled the Cajun's throat. He let go of Spencer long enough to execute a fancy bow. "De name be Remy LeBeau, _mes amis_. It's a pleasure to meet y'." Straightening back up, he flung one arm around Spencer's shoulders. "Y' must be some great people if'n y' done put up with dis one."

Under the guise of adjusting his stance, Spencer elbowed Remy in the ribs, making him grunt. Then he slipped his arm around Remy's waist. "Ignore him please, guys. Remy and I, we go back a ways. I promise, I'll explain everything later. First, let's discuss the case." And just like that, he drew the attention back to where it should be, allowing himself a little time to recover his composure. He watched as Wolverine stepped forward, giving the two of them a wry grin before speaking to the team "The guy you're after has been killing not just humans, but mutants too, so we've been tracking him. We think we might have a few locations of his that he might go to, but we can't seem to pin him down at any one and we don't have the manpower to raid all of them at once without spreading our people too thin, but sending in the local cops to look could get them killed. We're pretty sure the guy is employing mutants to watch his places for him."

"How sure are you that he's using these locations?" Dave questioned.

Remy turned his head to look at the senior profiler. "We're sure, M. Rossi. Verified de information m'self. He's at one of dem."

"How many people do you two have?" Aaron asked.

"Six."

After a brief look at his team, silently asking permission and confirming the answer, Aaron turned back to the two mutants. "We can split apart with you. Two of us and two of you at each location. With your knowledge of the Unsub, do you think that would be sufficient?"

"Sounds like a good plan to us." Wolverine said. Something in his face told Spencer that this was what they'd been hoping to have happen all along. But he said nothing, letting Wolverine continue to talk. "He never arrives at any location earlier than ten pm, so we've got an hour to get together and stake out. How soon can you guys be ready?"

"Give us enough time to grab our vests an we're ready to go." The calm words from the Unit Chief were confirmed by the nods from the rest of the team.

Remy grinned at them. "Den let's get dis show on de road, yeah? _Laissez le bon temps rouler_!"

Chuckling, Spencer looked over at him. "Let the good times roll." He translated for the others.

* * *

While Wolverine went to gather the rest of their team, Remy gave the other agents in the room a broad smile. "_Excusez-moi, s'il vous plait_. Just gonna borrow dis _homme_ f' a minute. We'll go grab his vest, yeah." Then he was dragging Spencer out into the hall before anyone could protest it. Spencer rolled his eyes but immediately started to lead Remy to his room. As he'd expected, Remy said nothing until they were in Spencer's hotel room. Then he shut the door and spun to face him. "A Fed? Y'r a Fed?"

"I've been one for a while. Youngest agent ever accepted into the Bureau." Spencer explained to him. He knew Remy would understand the implications of that and he waited for the fallout while he grabbed his vest. Sure enough, it didn't take long in coming. A hand on his arm spun him around and he found himself face to face with a very irritated Remy. "Y'r telling me dat y' was a Fed de last time and y' didn't tell me?"

"No, I was a Fed in training. There's a vast difference." Spencer snapped back. "And I couldn't tell you. It started out as just a job to get information at the Academy. I couldn't tell anyone I was doing it. When the job was done, I bought my freedom and I finished my training at the Academy. I started doing something to help people, not hurt them. Not like you have much room to talk. _X-Men_." The one word was drawled out mockingly.

That struck just like he knew it would. Huffing, the older man let go. "_Je sais_. Was sent dere on a job, too. Still doing it, so to speak, though it aint required and I aint getting paid." He reached out, taking Spencer's hands in his. "Was sent to watch out f' Scotty. Protect de Summers bloodline and all dat, y' know?"

"Scott Summers?" All Spencer could do for a moment was blink and stare.

Remy nodded sagely. "_Oui_. He's here with us tonight."

"Well, I know who's on my team." With that remark and a roll of his eyes, Spencer nudged Remy toward the door. "Come on, before they send someone to find me."

Right before Spencer opened the door, Remy spun him once more and pulled him in for a tight hug. Spencer didn't even hesitate to hug him back just as tightly. Cajun words were murmured in Spencer's ear, warming his insides. "I missed you too." He whispered back. He indulged himself by burying his face against Remy's neck and drawing in the scent that hadn't changed. One he still smelled sometimes in his dreams. "I missed you a lot."

"After we deal with dis _connard_, y' and I gonna get a drink together." When he pulled back, Remy brought one hand up, gently tipping Spencer's chin up so he could plant a chaste kiss on his lips. "F' now, let's go to work, cher."

* * *

It was easy to split up into teams. Some of the X-Men seemed surprised at how they were divided, but there were some that didn't. Scott and Wolverine—he learned that the man's name was Logan—didn't seem surprised at all when Remy paired himself with Scott, or that he pulled Spencer to be with him as well. To keep things somewhat even, Derek went along with Spencer, though they both knew he was there for more reasons than that. This was his best friend and he wanted to make damn sure that someone was watching Spencer's back. Plus, there was a healthy dose of curiosity mixed in here about this person that it was obvious their friend knew and who none of them had ever even heard of. Things had been too busy before for anyone to really question Spencer about anything. The most that he'd gotten was a look from Aaron that warned him there were going to be questions later—questions he had better have answers to.

Spencer knew that Derek would watch him, but he wouldn't call him out on anything while they were set up on their stakeout. Not in front of others. What he hadn't known was that Remy's friends wouldn't have the same respect.

They were settled down in the back of a rather large van that was being supplied by the X-Men when Scott Summers himself turned to face the two of them and gave a grin that almost immediately set Spencer on edge. "So." The man drawled the word out slowly. He shifted to better be able to smirk at Spencer and Remy. "We've got time to kill. I wanna hear about how you two know one another."

Remy gave him one of his famous grins and reached out to pat the man's cheek. "Dat's a story better told once, round everyone, cher. F' now, just leave it at dat we used to work together."

That didn't really help things. Spencer could see that all it really did was pique Derek's interest even more, as well as the others. Maybe they couldn't tell the full story right now but he knew they had to give something. So, Spencer gave an answer that would probably seem normal to Scott, and would give Derek a bit of understanding. "We had the same boss back then." He said. Briefly, Derek's eyes widened but he hid it quickly and nodded. The team knew a little about Spencer's old life, but Derek definitely knew the most. Spencer didn't want to say anything important out loud, just in case Scott didn't know any of that.

The surprised look Remy gave him told him that he'd caught the looks between the two and realized that Derek knew something. He, too, saved his comments for later, though. For the moment, the Cajun just settled back in his seat, watching out the window as he spoke, following Spencer's lead and speaking in generalities, keeping the details to themselves. "We was a team f' a lot of t'ings. Work well together, him and Remy. Ow!" The last was tacked on when Spencer reached over and yanked his ponytail. The Cajun turned to scowl at him.

Spencer just glared right back at him. "What have I told you?"

"_Merde_, y'r a slave driver! Haven't seen y' in years and y'r gonna pick on dis po' boy f' dat?"

"Poor boy nothing." Spencer fired back. "You know how I feel about that. It's unhealthy and I won't put up with it. Knock it off, or don't talk to me. Take your pick."

Now it was Scott who was grinning. He looked from Spencer's stern expression to Remy's pout and back again, letting out a chuckle. "Oh, good luck with that. We've been trying for years to get him to knock off the third-person."

"If he wants to talk to me, he'll stop. It wouldn't be the first time I've ignored him for speaking in the third person." Raising an eyebrow, Spencer met Remy's pout without a qualm. "And pouting won't soften me up either. There are prescribed times I tolerate it, LeBeau. This is not one of them."

"Y' sound like de Boss." Remy grumbled, ignoring both Derek and Scott's chuckles.

That was enough to have Spencer glowering at him. "That was cruel, Remy. You take that back!"

"_Non_. Y' was mean first!"

"We are not five years old. Quit acting like it."

"You're de one threatening me wit' de silent treatment! How mature is dat?"

Spencer crossed his arms over his chest and glared harder. "You want to talk to me about mature? The man who started all this by referring to himself by his name instead of the proper pronoun?"

"Everyone's got quirks! Been like dis f' a long time, me!" Remy argued with him.

That had Spencer scoffing. "A quirk? Biting your nails is a quirk. The way you toss in random French words is a quirk…"

"Oh, y' mean like de way y' have to line up y'r bottles by height in de shower? Dat qualify as a quirk, cher?"

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but movement through the window caught his attention and he forgot all about the mostly playful argument. It took only a second for him to switch over from playful to his agent mindset. "Morgan, there." Spencer pointed, getting his partner's attention. Derek leaned forward and nodded at the sight of the man. Then he was cursing. "Shit, he's got a girl." Already he had his phone out and was calling Aaron even as he was gathering himself off the floor of the van. "Hotch? Yeah, we got him. He's got a girl with him. No, no. Okay. Got it." Hanging up his phone, Derek looked at them. "We go."

Behind them, Scott was gathering himself as well, getting ready to move, and Spencer registered his movements the same way that he always registered those around them, recognizing him with that extra part of his mind and tagging him as 'safe' and 'team'. Then, when he was ready, he smiled at Remy and gave a small nod, getting one in return. It was time to go save the girl and bag their Unsub.

Silently, the group exited the van.


	23. Then and Now

_Prompt: Hurt Spencer, maybe a hint D/s, long time friends, just have fun with it! Do whatever._

_I hope this satisfies :)_

* * *

It was a beautiful evening. Remy stretched out on the rooftop, one arm tucked behind his head and his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He laid there, smoking and watching from behind his dark shades as the sun slowly set. There would've been quite a few people who would've been surprised to discover that this was one of his favorite things to do. He absolutely loved watching the sunset; the way the sky changed its colors until it looked like paints smeared out from the sun. Years had passed since he'd picked up a paintbrush, yet he always found himself with that slight urge when he got the chance to watch the sun go down.

The feel of his phone vibrating in his pants pocket drew his attention away from the sight in front of him. He contemplated not answering it before sighing and reaching down into his pocket. A look at the phone screen made him glad he'd decided to pull it out. Talking to his best friend while watching the sun go down would just make the evening even better. That friendship was another thing that would've surprised quite a few people to know about. Remy LeBeau, known by many as Gambit, one of the infamous X-men and proud master thief—best friends with Dr. Spencer Reid, a certified genius with three doctorates, three B.A.'s, and a Supervisory Special Agent in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the _FBI_. That's right. A Fed. But he'd known Spencer since before the man had ever even thought about joining the Academy.

He brought the phone to his ear, grinning around the cigarette that dangled from his lips. "Y' should see dis sunset here, _mon ami_." He said in way of a greeting. "It's a _beau_ sight."

_"I bet it is."_

Every instinct Remy had went on high alert at the tone to that voice. His muscles all went tight before loosening up as if in preparation for trouble. "What is it?" There was a serious note to his voice that clearly said he knew something was going on and he wanted answers. Now. "What happened?"

_"Is it, um…would it be all right if I uh, if I came to stay with you? Just…just for a little while. We just finished our case and I have some time off and I just, I was hoping maybe I could come and, and stay with you. If that was okay."_ There was a note to Spencer's words, a hint of tightness that Remy recognized and that made him even more worried. That edge only got into Spencer's voice when he was fighting to keep himself and his emotions under tight control—and when he was failing at it.

Never once in all these years had Spencer ever asked if he could come and stay here with Remy. He'd asked Remy to come out there before, but he had never asked to come out here. Usually he didn't even have to ask for Remy to come to him. Remy had perfected the art of reading Spencer over the years and as silly as it may have sounded to others, he generally knew what Spencer needed before Spencer himself knew. There were always indicators when Spencer was reaching a hard spot and Remy always made a point to head out that way if he could when he saw those indicators. The fact that Spencer, a man who rarely ever asked for anything, was asking to come out…it put a sick feeling in Remy's stomach. "Of course y' can." He didn't hesitate to say the words. "Spencer…are y' okay?" His question asked so much more than just that and he knew Spencer would hear it.

There was a broken sound on the other end of the phone that might've been a weak attempt at a laugh or a choked off sob, Remy wasn't sure which. _"No."_ Came the honest answer. _"This case…"_ His words trailed off and Remy heard a shuddered breath.

Remy pulled his cigarette from his lips and charged it before flicking it and letting it explode with a little pop in the evening air. Then he was moving, agilely navigating his way to the window he'd used to get up here. "Where are y' right now?"

_"I'm still at work. I just finished my reports for the uh, the case."_

"Dis is what y'r gonna do den." One handed, Remy grabbed the sill and slipped in through the window with ease. He quickly made his way to his desk and opened his laptop. "Y'r gonna grab y'r go bag and y'r gonna ask one of y'r _amis_ to take y' to de train station. When y' get dere, y'll go to de desk and pick up de tickets I'm about to order fo' y'. When de train gets dere, I'll be waiting fo' y' at de station. _D'accord_?"

_"Okay."_ He heard a soft breath sigh out from Spencer and when the man spoke again, his voice had just a hint less stress to it. _"Thank you."_

"Anytime. Now, go ask fo' y'r ride and y' text me when y'r on de train to let me know y' made it."

Once he'd hung the phone up, it only took a few minutes online before Remy had the ticket purchased and the guarantee that it would be waiting for Spencer at the desk. That done, he stopped for a moment to try and think of what to do next. Whatever was going on, it wasn't good, that much was obvious. There was something serious going on with Spencer. Without knowing what exactly the problem was it would be hard to plan out what to do. However, before anything else he needed to figure out where they were going to be staying. First thought was to set up in town at his condo for a while. That would give them privacy so that he could find out what was going on and help his friend through it. It would also save him from having to explain Spencer's actions to anyone.

But…

If Spencer wanted to leave his home, wanted to come out here like he'd _never_ done before, it had Remy wondering if maybe there was some kind of trouble. That was a possibility, especially with his job. If Spencer was in trouble then Remy wanted to bring him here, not the condo. The condo was safe, sure. Here, though, surrounded by friends, was even safer. Also, if this was work-related, there was a chance he was injured and if that was the case then he wanted to be near enough to Henri to be able to get Spencer help if need be.

There were far too many if's in there to really be able to make a decision as to what to do right now. The only smart route seemed to be to prepare for either one. To do that, he needed to speak with Scott. A glance at the clock gave him a general idea where he would find the man and he quickly set out to go to him. Sure enough, when he knocked at the door to Scott's office a few minutes later, the man called out a "Come in."

Remy pushed the door open, poking his head in first before bringing in the rest of him. There was no one else in here, thankfully. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have where everyone could hear him. He looked to where Scott was pacing by his desk. "Heya, Fearless. Y' got a few minutes to spare?"

Surprise showed in the arched brows for only a second before Scott's expression smoothed out. He closed the folder in his hands and tossed it down onto his desk. "Sure. What can I do for you, Remy?"

If there was anyone here at the mansion that Remy trusted, Scott was definitely one of them, ranking right up there beside Logan. Maybe they didn't always see eye to eye and maybe people thought they spent more time arguing than anything else. But the two of them had a good friendship and Remy knew he could trust the man, something that wasn't easy for him to do. Pulling in a breath, Remy reminded himself that he could trust Scott. Then he shut the door and made his way further into the office. "Dis might take more dan a few minutes. Remy's got a favor to ask, _mais_ dere's some things y' need to know first."

Scott just nodded and moved around his desk. "Drink?" he offered.

Sighing, Remy slipped into the chair he always used. "_Oui, merci_." He watched as Scott moved to his liquor cabinet and unlocked it. While the man got their drinks, Remy figured he better start this. "Got a phone call a bit ago when I was out having a smoke. _Mon ami_, he called to ask if he could come and stay with Remy fo' a while. Known him fo' a long time, me. Aint once in all dat time has he ever asked to come stay with Remy. It's… it's safer fo' Remy to go stay with him. If he's asking to come here, it's gotta mean dere's some kind of trouble." He reached up and took the glass when Scott brought it to him. "_Merci_."

"You're welcome." Scott didn't go around to the other side of the desk. Instead, he took the chair by Remy's, turning it enough that he could look at him. "I'm assuming the 'safer' part is one of the things I'd need to know?"

Remy sipped off his drink before nodding. "_Oui_. First, lemme say, Spencer's a mutant. Makes blue energy with his hands. Thing is, don't no one know he is. See…he works fo' de ah, de BAU. Dat's…"

"The Behavioral Analysis Unit." Scott finished for him. "Shit. You've got a friend in the FBI? A friend that's secretly a mutant that works for the FBI? Shit, Rem." Pausing, Scott shook his head before surprising Remy by laughing. "You have got to have the most interesting friends. Okay. Well, that makes the 'safer' comment make a little more sense. Protecting him and us by keeping us all away from one another. That makes sense."

"Exactly. Now, I don't t'ink dat'll be a problem dis time. I can get him in here and dere shouldn't be a problem once he's on de property. _Mais…merde_." The expletive slipped out on a frustrated breath. Remy tipped his glass back and took a gulp, letting the burn work its way down his throat. He had no idea how to go about saying this but he knew that he had to if he wanted Spencer to be able to stay here. Because if he didn't do it now, it would sure as hell come up later and he wasn't going to put Spencer through that. He personally didn't care what people thought of him. However, he wasn't going to let anyone cause any trouble for Spencer. And if he didn't address this in advance, it very well could.

Abruptly Remy sat forward, resting his arms on his thighs and cradling his glass between his hands. The best way to do this was to just spit it all out. The seriousness of his words was easily conveyed to Scott by his tone and made even more obvious by the fact that Remy slipped into first person speech. "Okay, it's like dis. I aint worried about de trouble with de Feds or nothing. Hell, I aint even worried if dere's someone after him or something like dat. Between us, I got faith we'd keep de boy safe. What worries me is how people here are gonna act with him. I don't want no comments or things dat hurt him. And I know people can be cruel bout things dey don't understand. I aint after explaining everything to everyone here. Dat aint deir business, y' know? _Mais_ if we decide to stay here and not at m' condo, I thought dat letting y' know might help. Have someone dat understands on our side, _oui_?"

"What is it you think people won't understand?"

"How Spencer acts with me." Remy answered promptly. He took a second to take another drink from his glass before continuing. "Here's where it gets to de things y' need to know. To make y' understand, I gotta go back a ways and tell y' how I first met him. Don't mind if y' share dis with Jeannie, seeing as how she's y'r _femme_. But it should be up to Spencer if anyone else finds out, y' know?"

"No one else will find out from us, Remy. I promise you that."

"_Merci_. I know y'r word's _bon_, me." His phone buzzing cut him off and he pulled it out to check the text message that just came in. _'On the train. Departing in five minutes – S'_ He sent off a quick reply, _'I'll be there to pick you up – R'_ and then he closed his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. "_Désolé_, Scotty. Anyways, okay." Time to get this started. _Now or never, LeBeau_. "When I first met Spencer, he was sixteen. I was in Vegas fo' work and de client had me meet him in dis private club he owned. Mutant only place, real exclusive. I met him dere fo' some drinks and to talk business. It was just a club like any other club, y' know? Drinks, cards, a stage fo' de entertainment. When I got dere, dey had a band up playing and some _femme _singing. Den, when we was wrapping things up, de _femme_ finished and dey announced dat it was time fo' de next act. M' client told me to stay and enjoy de show with him, so I turned to watch. First, dere was just dis sultry voice singing."

He could still see it if he closed his eyes. Still hear that song. At one point in time it had been a song he'd laughed over. Now, it never failed to make him grit his teeth. 'Trashy Women'. He had to shove back those memories so he could continue this.

"Den de curtains opened up and out came strutting dis…dis young thing. _Dieu_, he looked so young, Scotty. And what he was wearing, y' wouldn't believe it. In Vegas dey aint known fo' subtlety. De _homme _had on purple sequined shorts dat looked more like briefs dan shorts. He wore a pair of black leather chaps, purple sparkly boots, and dis black vest dat cut off mid chest with strings hanging down to his waistline. He even had on a purple wig and a purple cowboy hat. De _homme_ was all decked out in de cowboy stripper style. And he did de moves, too. Danced and sang his way round de room, flirting with everyone, getting his ass pinched and shit like dat."

"Shit." Scott breathed out. It wasn't hard to see where this was going.

Glaring at his glass, Remy drained the last of it. He stared down into the empty bottom as he kept going. "M' client, Carmen, he told me he'd bought de boy from someone else, who had bought de boy from his _père_ when he was just ten. _Ten_. De things de boy had to do, y' don't need dose details. Don't know if I could say dem anyways without breaking something. But y' can guess what kind of life he had. I played it up, let Carmen t'ink I was real interested in de boy, let him t'ink I was aching fo' him. Didn't take much to charm de man into changing de payment fo' de job. Instead of cash, he gave me Spencer. I basically bought de _homme_ from him."

There. That had been the hardest part of all. From here, it was a little easier to tell. Remy shifted back in his seat again and curled his legs up in the chair with him, adjusting his posture so he could finally look over at Scott. There was no judgment on the man's face, no recriminations. But Remy could feel his sorrow and sympathy and anger, all emotions Remy could understand and appreciate. True to form, Scott said nothing, able to tell that the story wasn't done. He just quietly waited for Remy to finish.

After a second to gather himself, Remy did. "After dat, I made it m' mission to put Carmen outta business. He still don't know it was me dat robbed him blind. Six months later, he was gone." And that had been _so_ satisfying! "When I first took Spencer outta dere, he didn't even flinch over de idea of being sold. He'd been too well trained to flinch over it. Dose early days, _merde_, dey was bad. Took me a long time to convince him dat I wasn't like de others. Dat I was setting him free. He just couldn't believe me. But we worked on it and I finally earned de boy's trust. I helped him out, made sure dat he was taken care of and dat his _mere_ was taken care of too, cause dey was alone and she couldn't work and dat was half de reason he was doing dis, fo' de money to support dem. He was in college at de time, so he was off at Caltech during de week and home on de weekends."

"College? I thought you said he was sixteen?"

That was enough to make Remy smile. "_Oui_, he was. Spencer graduated high school when he was twelve." Feeling and seeing Scott's shock, Remy let out a husky laugh. "He's a genius. Guess I should warn y' of dat, too. He's got an IQ of 187. Dey say dat's supposedly higher dan Einstein's. He's also got an eidetic memory and he can read like a flash. T'ink he said it's something like twenty thousand words a minute. He's got doctorates in mathematics, chemistry and engineering and B.A's in psychology, sociology and philosophy. But, all dat's off topic. What all dis boils down to, why it's all important fo' y' to know, is dis." Once more Remy turned serious. There was time for the rest later. Right now, he needed to finish what he started. "Spencer and I have gotten real close over de years. De _homme_ is m' best friend. I'd trust him with m' life. And he's come a long way from de person he was back den. But, he'd already been someone's property fo' six years by de time I came into de picture, and he'd been hurt by his _père_ fo' years b'fore dat. De things dat were done to him, de things he learned, he can't ever seem to fully let go of."

The look Scott wore was one of dawning comprehension. "So, when you said people won't understand how he acts with you…I take it he still shows some of his, well, training, for lack of a better word."

"He does. Not s' much as he used to. We still work on trying to get him to be more independent and he does real _bon _most of de time. But dere are some things dat just don't seem to go away fo' him. Dey have with other people, but not with him and Remy. And when he's having problems, it gets more pronounced, y' see. So with whatever's going on, dere's a chance he's gonna be a lil more in dat mindset dan he usually is and I just don't want no one giving him shit fo' it. When things get bad fo' him and he gets dat outta control feeling, catering to dat part of him is sometimes de only way to give him de stability to be okay again. I aint saying he acts like m' pup or m' slave or nothing like dat. It's just, _merde_, it's hard to explain it all."

"You don't have to, Remy. You've already explained plenty enough. If there's any trouble, I'll handle it or Jean will." The 'leader' tone was in Scott's voice; that tone that said this was his word and it was final and anyone who had a problem with it could kiss his ass. "This is a safe haven for all mutants, not just the ones that people approve of. If he acts a little different or has problems that people feel the need to make fun of, I'll straighten them out easily enough."

The honesty in those words and the support that Remy could feel with it had him sighing just a little in relief. He'd known he could count on Scott. "_Merci beaucoup, _Scotty." The words were straight and heartfelt. "Aint sure yet if we're gonna stay at m' condo in town or here, _mais_ I wanted to be prepared fo' either one. He said he just got off a case, so dere's a chance he could be hurt. Comes with de job, _oui_?"

"Well, whichever you decide, just know that he is welcome here. When is he coming in?"

"Dat was him dat text me b'fore to let me know he was on de train, so not real long. Few hours." And speaking of that, there were some other things he needed to take care of. Remy rose gracefully to his feet, going to take care of his glass. "B'fore he gets here, I'm gonna go and take care of a few things in town, pick up a few things fo' him. He's coming straight from work so he's only got his go-bag with him."

Scott rose as well, bringing his glass over to the sideboard. "Well, make sure to let me know if you decide to stay in town for a while or if you need me to prep a room here or anything."

A laugh slipped out of Remy and flashed a smile at his friend. "Even if de _homme_ stays here, he aint staying in his own room. He'll stay in with me."

"Yeah, I give that about a day, day and a half before rumors start to fly."

"Trust me, Scotty. Dat's inevitable." With that teasing remark, Remy winked at him before turning to make his way out of the room, leaving his friend chuckling behind him.


	24. Surprising Allies

_Prompt: "Maybe he's sort of friends or something with Creed? A story where Creed's still a scary bad ass but he's got this creepy strange friendship going on with Spencer where they sort of hate each other yet have worked together?"_

* * *

The day was almost at an end and Spencer Reid was just wrapping up the last of his paperwork when someone sat down right on the edge of his desk. He didn't bother looking up, already knowing who it would be. Though a corner of his mouth quirked slightly at the other person's antics, he kept his eyes on his papers and continued to write even as he asked "Is there something I can assist you with, Morgan?"

The senior profiler and one of his absolute best friends laughed and leaned over to look at the paper he was working on. "Aren't you done already? I mean, even _I'm_ finished, and that's saying something, kid."

"Seeing as how this file was yours, I think that it says that you know how to push your work off on others." Spencer fired back. He finished the last line and closed the folder, handing it up to Derek before leaning back in his chair to shake his head at his friend. "Here, completed and only in need of your signature."

Derek flashed a wide grin at him. "You're the best, Reid."

Rolling his eyes, Spencer looked over toward Emily, who was chuckling into her coffee cup. "So, Reid." She called out to him. "Do you have any plans for the weekend?"

Starting as soon as the workday finished, the team was going to have a whole weekend off from work. That may not have sounded like much to others, but to the team, who had been working back to back cases for weeks now, two days free from the Bureau sounded like heaven. Aaron had promised them that, barring any absolute emergencies, they would not be disturbed through the whole weekend. Spencer smiled over at Emily and shrugged. "I thought I might get in contact with some friends, see how they're doing."

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting him. Derek started into his plans for the weekend while Spencer opened his cell and found the text there. _– Private Number – ETA 6:36 –_ He read the message quickly and closed his phone before putting it back into his pocket. Derek was still talking about some club he wanted to go to that he'd never been to before and Ashley was chiming in now, saying she'd heard it was a great place. It was surprising that Ashley was speaking up about something like this, outside of work. She was still rather shy around them with some things and tended to not talk all that much socially to anyone but Dave. The girl was still new enough; given time, Spencer knew she'd warm up.

The phone on his desk rang and, before he could answer it, Derek snatched it up and said "Dr. Reid's desk."

Spencer stared at the man, watching as Derek's face stretched into a grin. "Hey to you too! How's it going? Yeah? No shit? Uh huh…yeah, of course. He's right here. Yeah, giving me the death glare for answering his phone…" Pausing, Derek let out a laugh. "I know, right? Okay, here he is."

It wasn't that hard to figure out who it was. Sighing, Spencer took the phone with a mock glare at Derek. "Hello, Alex. What do you want?"

_"Is that any way to treat your brother?"_

He could hear the laughter in Alex's voice and it made him smile despite himself. "No, you're right. That was far too nice and sophisticated, but I am at work and therefore can't speak at your level. You'll have to make due."

This time Alex let his laughter out. _"You're such a shit, pidge. You know that, right? And who says I want something, huh? Can't I call to say hi?"_

"Call me at work, on my _work number_, only seven minutes before I'm due to leave the office? Try again. What do you want?"

_"I hate you."_

"I'm going to hang up, Alex…" He looked up at Derek and the two shared a grin. Emily was listening from her desk without shame and Ashley was even watching him.

There was a gusty sigh before Alex spoke again, his voice slightly pleading. _"I was taking a look at some things from my accountant and some of the numbers don't add up right. And before you make some crack about my mathematical skills, let me just tell you shut up in advance. I think the fucker's skimming some of my damn cash."_

No matter how much they teased one another, they always had one another's backs, even in the little things. Spencer didn't hesitate to tell him "Send me the relevant data and I'll run over it this weekend and have it back to you by Monday."

_"Oh, man, you're a lifesaver, pidge."_

"Just you remember that." Glancing up, Spencer saw the clock on the wall and took note of the time. "Listen, if that's everything, I've really got to get going." As he spoke he started to move, gathering up his things and putting them into his bag. Derek moved off his desk, freeing it up for Spencer to finish putting things away.

Alex very obviously perked up at those words. _"Get going? To what? Spencer…do you have a date? Oh, man. Tell me you've got a date! Who is he? What's his name? Where'd you meet him? I want details and I want them now! Well, not naughty details. Wait! Are there naughty details to be had already?"_

Spencer pulled his bag over his head and resisted the urge to sigh. "Goodbye, Alex. I'll call once I have something for you."

_"Don't you dare hang up…"_ He was cut off as Spencer did just what Alex had been telling him not to do. He hung up on him. Then because he knew his friends and he knew that they too would be about to ask questions, Spencer made a hasty retreat, giving them a quick wave as he hurried off. "I'll see you guys on Monday! Have a good weekend!" he called out. Then he was out the doors and going to the elevator. If everything was running on time, he should make it to where he needed to be with just minutes to spare.

* * *

Thirty five minutes later found Spencer sitting on a small bench in a quieter part of DC. Gone was his typical sweater vest, stuffed down into his messenger bag now. In its place he wore a zip up sweater jacket, trying to make himself look less out of place here; not that it was crowded or anything. There was no one in sight but for him. Occasional cars drove past, watched carefully by the young genius. Then his attention was caught by the sight of a particular car coming around the corner. A cab, rarely seen in this part of town. Spencer rose to his feet when the cab pulled up and a large, dangerous looking man climbed out. The man walked straight toward Spencer, lips curved in a smile that showed just a hint of too sharp teeth. "Last place people would think to find you, beanpole." Victor Creed said, his grin growing a little wider, a little more dangerous.

It had no effect on the young genius. "Isn't that the point?" Spencer returned calmly. He smiled and stuffed his hands in his pockets, inclining his head to the right. "Car's this way."

The two easily fell into step beside one another, starting leisurely down the sidewalk. "So, anything new since you called?"

"Nothing. Not a single thing. I still have no clue who or why." Sighing, Spencer clenched his hands a little in his pockets, trying to keep his voice low and level.

Victor snorted. "Once I find em, they'll tell me why."

Pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, Spencer handed it to Victor, who pocketed it without a word. They both knew what it was. A code was on there, one that Victor would input on his account online that would transfer his down payment from Spencer's account to his. It was how they'd always worked. The rest would be given upon completion. "I've got the weekend off, so whatever we can get by Monday would be best. If they're going to try something stupid, this weekend would probably be when they're going to do it."

The two turned the corner, just a block away from the car, when all of a sudden all hell broke loose. A van pulled out of the alley up ahead and Victor cursed loudly, grabbing Spencer's arm to move just seconds too late. Gunfire split the air and the nearby glass bus stop enclosure exploded, glass flying, and they were falling to the ground as Victor yanked them down to try and shelter Spencer's body from the hail of bullets.

Grabbing Spencer tight, Victor made a quick dive back around the corner, feeling the bullet that ripped through his arm, already healing by the time they were back around the corner. He looked down, ready to snarl something at Spencer, and found the young man almost limp in his arms, blood coming from more than one place on his body. Shit. Shit! Any plans of standing and fighting just went out the window. First priority on this job was to keep the charge safe. That above all else. So, as much as it went against instinct to run, Victor gathered the little shit up in his arms and, with a furious snarl, took off into the night.


	25. Save Me

_Prompt: A story about domestic violence_

* * *

If Scott had thought that Spencer's nighttime confession meant that things were going to go a little easier, he was quickly disabused of that notion. The morning started on the wrong foot and only continued to get progressively worse from there. Spencer got up when Logan did and despite Scott's insistence that he could stay, the young man was determined to head to his own room, eventually snapping at Scott to back off before slamming the door on his way out. Then he'd closeted himself in his room, ignoring the summons for breakfast, until finally Scott had gone up to fetch him and remind him that Hank had ordered he eat three square meals a day. Spencer had come down, sulkily made his way through breakfast, and escaped as soon as possible. It had been another battle to get him out for lunch.

After lunch, Hank had taken Spencer upstairs to do his daily exam in Spencer's room, closeting the two in there for at least an hour. During that time, Scott took care of some paperwork, handled a few phone calls, and some other things that needed his attention. By the time dinner rolled around, Spencer thankfully came to the table on his own, but he showed no interest in his food, pushing it around his plate with his fork like a child trying to make it look as if he'd eaten some. Then, when there was a small distraction at the table, he took advantage and disappeared. He wasn't in his room when Scott hunted him and he wasn't anywhere around, or even up on the roof. He didn't come to Scott's room that night, either, but in the morning Scott had gone to Spencer's room and found him curled up in bed.

That seemed to set the pattern for the next few days. Unless forced out, Spencer rarely came around anyone, instead choosing to either hide in his room or go off somewhere on the grounds and hide. When he was out, he was generally silent unless spoken to and even then he was short, to the point, and quiet. Unless it was with Scott. It seemed that everything Scott said to him sparked a fight of some sort. Hell, they'd fought over something as simple as Scott telling Spencer he looked good one morning. Things hadn't been this bad in _years_. It was flashing Scott back to Spencer's early teenage years when he and his brother had fought constantly when around one another. Not because they were actually mad; hell, he knew Spencer wasn't really mad at him now either. He knew his brother well enough to know exactly what this was. Spencer was afraid.

Whatever was going on with him, it was something bad. Something that was terrifying Spencer straight down to his bones. Something that he knew Scott would find a way to get out of him if they sat and talked. So, to keep his secret safe, Spencer was pushing him away. If they were fighting than they weren't talking and there was no way Scott could get close enough to him to help. They'd been this route before and Scott had waited him out then, he would wait him out now. When Spencer realized that Scott wasn't giving up, that he wasn't going anywhere and that this wasn't going to work, he would cave. Just like he had before. All Scott had to do was withstand the storm until then.

After four days of it, however, he wasn't ashamed to admit that his patience was stretched thin and that his frustration was growing. So it was when he heard that Remy had come back, he almost danced in absolute joy before asking that Remy be sent to his office. Finally, someone to back him up on this! Someone to help! The others at the mansion might try—they all cared about Spencer and were all friends with him—but absolutely no one seemed to handle Spencer _and_ any of his moods as well as Scott or Remy could. Not even Alex was as good at it as Remy could be. Alex was more likely to fight with Spencer and the two would pound one another into the ground until someone was seriously injured or they were broken apart. Hence the reason that Scott had spent two hours on the phone with Alex explaining to him what was going on—at least, what he knew so far—and then convincing him not to fly out there. The bulk of the conversation had been spent convincing him not to come. Alex was just as protective of Spencer as Scott was.

A knock at his office door warned Scott only seconds before it opened and Remy popped inside. "_Bonjour_, Scotty. Y' wanted to see me?"

"Come in, come in. Shut the door behind you." Scott walked over to his mini bar, pulling out a bottle of good bourbon he kept in here specifically for visits with Remy. He had a bottle in here for each person he shared a drink with; he made a point to know things like that and keep them around. "Care for a drink? I could sure as hell use one."

Remy shut the door and cautiously started to make his way over, eyeing Scott with concern. "It's only two in de afternoon, _mon ami_. Usually y' aint de type to drink till after dinner time."

"Trust me, this conversation calls for a drink. Hell, the entire situation calls for a drink, or four." Pouring a shot, he slammed it back, enjoying the burn. "Christ, you've no idea how glad I am to see you, Remy."

"Another few shots like dat and y'll be plenty glad to see anyt'ing, Scotty." Remy stepped right up to him, taking the alcohol and setting it down. Then he turned toward Scott, taking his hands and leading him over toward the couch. "Talk to me, _mon ami_. What's going on? What's got y' acting like dis? Y'r emotions are all over de place. What's wrong?"

Scott sat down on a sigh. He took a few deeps breaths to bring himself back under control once more. Apparently he was more stressed than he'd admitted to himself. "What's wrong?" he repeated once he was sure he was calm once more. "That's a loaded question. There's a lot going on. Let me start at the beginning." That was just what he did. He told Remy about the phone call from Aaron and going out to get Spencer. He didn't skimp details as he told him about picking Spencer up and about bringing him here and even about the fights that had happened since then. When he wound down, his headache was back, pulsing in his temples. "He won't tell us what's going on, but I've got some theories. None of them are pleasant ones. I know if I can just wait him out, he'll break down and let me in. He always does. But I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm glad you're home and I'm not going to be the only one here who understands how to deal with him. Waiting him out is one thing. Dealing with this constant fighting, morning, noon and night, it's wearing on me. I know he's my family and I know I don't really have the right to ask for help…"

One of Remy's hands came up, brushing over his forehead in a gesture he had done countless times before. "Hush, Cher. Y' got every right to ask. Spencer, he's m' best friend and I'd help even if y' didn't ask and y' know it, so y' just hush on de guilt. Y' got enough to deal with f' now." Giving him a friendly grin, Remy wrapped both his hands around one of Scott's. "Y' look fair beat to death, Cher. I'm here now and I'll help y', don't y' worry. Y' take de night off, spend it with Wolvie. De two of y' just have a quiet night in with no fighting, no troubles, nothing like dat. I'll take care of y'r _frère _f' y'."

"It's not easy to get him to meals and he fights on eating too much, even though Hank's practically trying to stuff him full of food."

"I'll get him to eat something."

Scott nodded but felt the need to add on "He's been hiding out lately and we can't seem to find him unless he wants to be found. So if he's not in his room, I don't know where he'll be."

The smile on Remy's face grew. He rose to his feet, squeezing Scott's hands one last time. "I'll find him, don't y' worry. Aint on one can hide from dis Cajun." Just as he started to move away, he paused, looking back to Scott. "Scotty, y' know, if he opens up to me…"

"I know, Remy." Understanding, Scott nodded at him. "I don't expect you to betray his confidences. If he tells you, I'm not asking you to come tell me. Right now I'll settle for him telling _someone_. I don't care how it happens; I just need him to be okay."

With a last nod and smile, Remy told him "Y' go get some rest before y'r headache comes back, Cher. Remy's got dis." And then he was gone, out the door, and Scott realized that his headache was gone. It took him a second to connect it with the gesture that Remy had done, sliding his hand over Scott's forehead, and he knew the empath had taken the pain from him. With a shake of his head, Scott settled back on the couch, feeling free to relax for the first time in four days. _I hope this works. I hope Remy being here helps_ he thought to himself.

* * *

It might've surprised some people to discover where exactly Spencer was at that moment. There was one place around here that he could go to that no one seemed to think to find him in. One place that he actually felt safe enough to catch a little bit of sleep, or to simply curl up and think. That was what he seemed to spend so much of his time doing lately. Thinking. Thinking about what had happened in his life, what was happening now, and what could happen in the future. Thinking about what he'd done and what he should do. Yet even after days of thinking and—just to himself he could admit this—sulking, he was still no closer to knowing what to do than he had been before.

There was just a soft whisper of sound behind Spencer that told him that someone had found his hiding spot. There was only one person that Spencer knew that would come out here to the boathouse and who could move so quietly that he wouldn't be heard until he got this close. Slitting his eyes open, Spencer peeked through his lashes and watched as the door to the bedroom opened and Remy came walking in on almost silent feet. He shut the door behind him before bending to set something on the ground. Then he was yanking his shoes off and setting them down, followed by his trench. Stripped of those, Remy moved right to the bed, lifting the covers and slipping underneath them. He settled right in front of Spencer, their knees brushing, one of his hands coming to rest over Spencer's, which lay on the bed between him. The young Cajun noted how Spencer's hands jumped a little and his body gave a small tremble at Remy's touches before he settled down.

A small smile curving his lips, Remy leaned in and pressed a kiss to the tip of Spencer's nose, chuckling when it made Spencer wrinkle his nose. "A _homme_ could get used to coming home and finding such a _beau_ sight waiting f' him in his bed." The Cajun teased him.

It was Remy's bed that they were lying in. Though he still had his room up at the mansion, he stayed down here more often than not, stating that he was just giving the lovebirds space when they stayed in Logan's rooms. Spencer knew it wasn't just that Remy was giving Logan and Scott space; he was also taking space for himself. This allowed him somewhere to go when he and Rouge were fighting while still staying close enough to the team to be of some help. It also fed Remy's need for having someplace private to escape to. More than once Spencer had hung out down here with Remy and ended up crashing beside him in this king sized bed. Here they had talked, sharing things about themselves, or helping one another through a nightmare. Here, they had simply lay side by side, enjoying the comfort of someone close while they slept without any strings attached. And here, they had shared those random nights of passion that were forever imprinted in Spencer's mind. It had seemed almost natural to hide out here over the past few days. Yet Spencer couldn't stop that little kernel of worry that sparked him to say "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just made myself at home in your bed."

"Psh." Scoffing, Remy rolled his eyes. "Aint complaining, me. Y' know y'r always welcome here, so y' just hush y'rself. Knew I'd find y' here anyways. Heard up at de mansion dat y've been a right little troublemaker, fighting with y'r _frère_, hiding from people."

"Scott told you, I imagine." Despite himself, a small note of bitterness slipped into Spencer's words. "Does he hope you'll find out what's wrong with little Spencer and help make it all better?" He scowled and pulled his hand back from Remy's, temper coming up as it had so often lately. "Well, I'll tell you the same thing I told him and you can pass the message along. I'm fine, I'll be fine, and I'll be even more fine as soon as he lets me _go home_."

Just as Spencer started to roll away, Remy rolled with him, moving quickly so that he had his hands pressed into the bed on either side of Spencer's head, his body stretched over his. "Now where do y' t'ink y'r going..." Remy started out. His words cut off when he looked into Spencer's face.

Once again, Spencer's mind and body were sending two entirely separate messages. His body had frozen, instinctively bracing for trouble, his eyes had gone wide, and his breathing had sped up, fear practically coming off him in waves. His brain was shouting at him, telling him _Remy will never hurt you, you idiot! Knock it off! He would never, ever hurt you and you know it. That's not who he is! He's not doing anything but trying to get your attention and talk to you. That's why he's over you like this._ Yet no matter how much his brain told him he was safe, that he wasn't going to be hurt, his body had become conditioned to react a certain way. Every inch of him was braced for the pain his body was absolutely sure was going to come.

"Spencer, look at me." Remy kept his voice low and gentle as he slowly moved to the side. "It's okay, Cher. Y'r okay." When he was on his side, no longer over top of him, Remy reached a hand out and laid it carefully over Spencer's heart. "Take a few deep breaths, in and out real carefully. Dat's it, just listen to m' voice and breathe."

As he'd done plenty of times before when nightmares woke him, Spencer listened to the sound of Remy's voice and used it to calm himself down. Slowly but surely his breathing calmed, his heart rate evened back out once more, and some of the tension started to drain away. Only then did his mind clear enough to panic for an entirely different reason. Remy was surely going to know something was seriously wrong now. What was he going to do?

To his shock, Remy didn't say anything else. The hand that was on Spencer's heart slid over him to the other side and Remy was scooting forward, cuddling against him, that one arm wrapped over him so he could cuddle close. Habit had Spencer curling his arm around Remy's back, holding him close. One of Remy's legs went over his so that it was resting between Spencer's thighs. His head found a spot on Spencer's shoulder and settled in. In a way, he was pinning Spencer once more, only in a much less confining manner. This didn't leave Spencer feeling vulnerable, but actually more in charge. He could escape from this. When finally the man was comfortable, that was when he spoke. "Y' can yell at me if'n y' need. I'll even fight with y' if dat's what y' need. Or I'll sit and listen. Or we can just lay here and dat's it. I don't care what it takes, Spencer."

"What if I don't want any of that? What if I just want to be left alone? To go home?" Spencer countered.

Remy turned his face in a little, nuzzling at Spencer's shoulder. "If y' did, den y' wouldn't be in m' bed, Cher. Y' wouldn't be at de mansion at all." Those honest words left Spencer speechless. Remy took advantage of that to keep talking as he still nuzzled at Spencer's shoulder. "If y' didn't want to be here and y' didn't want help, y' wouldn't have let dem bring y' here. And y' definitely wouldn't be in m' bed. Y' know me better dan anyone else, Spencer. Y' know I won't back away like Scotty's been doing. He's been tough on y', I hear, and fighting back with y', but he lets y' run and he lets y' hide. He don't force de issue with y'. Y' know I will. Some part of y' wants to tell someone what's going on and y' know y' can trust me with anything. By coming here, y' was basically waiting f' me, cause y' know I'm strong enough to make y' talk and strong enough to help y' and right now y' need someone to be strong f' y'."

Holy shit. Was that really what he was doing? Had he been subconsciously waiting for Remy, just as he was suggesting? Waiting for a person he knew was strong enough to make him say what he kept swearing he wasn't going to say? Had that been the whole reason he came to the mansion and then hid out so much in Remy's room? That made him sound so weak. As if he wasn't capable of taking care of himself and he needed someone to take over for him. _You can't take care of this. How have you taken care of it so far? By staying in an abusive relationship that's steadily getting more and more abusive? How is that taking care of it?_ Closing his eyes, Spencer sighed. "That makes me sound pathetic."

He felt Remy give him a gentle squeeze. "_Non,_ it makes y' sound smart. Y' came to someone y' know y' can trust, Cher. How's dat pathetic?"

"I trust Scotty." He sounded almost offended.

"Of course y' do. But with Scotty, y' always worry about letting him down. Y' know dat and I know dat. But with me, y' know y' aint gonna. Y've seen de darkness dat I got in me just like I seen y'rs. Dere aint nothing y' do dat's gonna make me judge y' cause y' know I've either already been dere, or I done worse so I aint got no room to judge."

Lying there, staring at the inside of his eyelids, feeling the warmth of Remy's body pressed up against his, Spencer did something he hadn't done for a while. He slowly lowered his shields, not just allowing Remy a taste of his emotions—he'd been shielding so tightly before that he knew Remy hadn't been able to feel any of his emotions—but also allowing himself to feel the emotions coming off of Remy. More than anything else in the world right now, he needed to feel what Remy was feeling. He needed that emotion to go with Remy's words. It was that emotion that finally broke him. There was concern there, as well as a hint of sadness. But most of all was an almost overwhelming affection that was like liquid sunshine against Spencer's mind. It poured into him, filling the places that had felt so cold lately, and a single tear slipped from the corner of Spencer's eye to slide down his temple. His voice was just barely a whisper in the air. "Everything is so messed up, Remy."

"Tell me."

What else could he do? Another tear joined the first. Lying there in a place that had come to equal safety to him, Spencer dropped the pretenses, dropped his walls, and said the words he'd been keeping locked inside. "My girlfriend hits me."


	26. Reborn in Fire

_This was a dream I had last night. Really, I have no excuse for it. IT's not set in any specified time in either X-Men or CM. Sorry!_

* * *

It was a Thursday afternoon when the whole of Spencer Reid's life changed. It should've been a normal day. The BAU was on a case that they'd pretty well wrapped up. They knew who their Unsub was and had gone to apprehend him. None of them had any idea just how much things would change by the time they left that house. Spencer had no idea how much _his _life would change.

Things wouldn't ever be the same again.

* * *

These were the kinds of situations that no one ever liked to be in. They were the ones that Spencer hated more than anything. Dealing with Unsubs was one thing; that could get dangerous enough not just for the agents but for any civilians. But when kids were in the mix—that changed everything. Dr. Spencer Reid stood with his friend and coworker at his side in the basement of their Unsub's house, their guns drawn, trying to talk town the man who was currently wearing a bomb strapped to his chest and holding his children hostage. They cowered over in the corner, too afraid to come out, too afraid to do much of anything.

SWAT was waiting behind them for their signal. Derek was speaking to the Unsub, trying to talk him down, while Spencer focused more on the children. If he could get them over here he could get them out and safely away.

"Mr. Hooper, please, it doesn't have to be this way." Derek's voice was pitched low, that cajoling tone that Spencer had heard him use so many times. He stepped to the left, away from Spencer and the kids, which forced the Unsub to turn that way as well if he wanted to keep Derek in his sight. "We don't want anyone to get hurt. We just want this to end as peacefully as possible."

"Then you just get back! Get out of here!" Lou Hooper snapped, gesturing with the detonator in his hand over towards the door.

Derek gave a small, sad shake of his head. "I can't do that, Mr. Hooper, you know that. I can't just leave."

With the man's attention firmly on Derek, it allowed Spencer the freedom to inch forward just a little more. The two children were tucked back by a washer, the older one, who was only seven, was clutching his four year old brother against his chest. It was the older one that Spencer tried to lock eyes with. He couldn't risk yelling out to him, or even calling out in a whisper, so he just kept moving, trying to get to them, trying to get the boy's attention.

Spencer was halfway across the room when the boy looked up. Blue eyes locked on Spencer's and the fear there made him flinch inside. No kid should be afraid like that.

"I want you out of my house!" Lou was yelling to Derek. The hand with the detonator was gesturing again, each movement growing more erratic. He was getting less and less stable as time passed.

Holding the older boy's eyes, Spencer let go of his gun with one hand and made a 'come here' gesture. There were just a few feet between them. If he could just get them to him it would be easier. He could protect them better.

The boy stared for only a split second and the way his eyes swept over Spencer said he was a bit too familiar with sizing up people. Whatever he saw must've reassured him. Never letting go of his brother, he pushed up to his feet and started to inch forward, pulling his brother along with him.

They were just a half foot in front of Spencer when everything went to hell.

The younger of the two was shuffling along with his brother without paying any attention to where he was going. He was too scared to lift his face from his brother's shirt. Because of that, he never saw the box just a hair too close, not until he caught it with his hip and sent it tumbling down.

Everyone in the basement froze as the boxes crashed down. Lou spun, eyes wide and wild as they landed on his boys, and what Spencer saw in his eyes had him shivering.

"Run!"

The word echoed in the room and Spencer wasn't sure who had shouted it, him or Derek, but it didn't really matter because they were already moving. Spencer snatched up the boys in front of him and ran, already knowing even as he did that it was going to be too late, that he would never make it over and out that door in time. Fear was like a living thing inside of him, crawling up his spine, burning in his gut, spreading like wildfire. He saw Derek go out the door and was grateful at least that his friend made it out.

There was only a second for Spencer to decide what to do. One split second in which he had to somehow come up with something to save these children. Only one idea presented itself and he didn't have time to try and think of anything else. Adrenaline gave him an extra burst of speed and he shot to the left, darting behind the nearby wall and flinging himself and the children down just as the whole world went insane. There was a large _BOOM_ that seemed both in him and out of him and Spencer did the only thing he could. He drew the two kids in against him and tucked his body down over theirs while the world shook and broke and flew around them, his only thought to shelter them from the blast.

Pain rolled over him, but it didn't come from the outside. It was coming from inside. His insides felt like they were burning, charged by some current, thrust into a fire, ripping and tearing and breaking him apart. It shot over his skin and he screamed as his back felt like it was ripped open and torn apart. The world around him burned away to ash and took him with it. The last thought he had before the world disappeared around him was that he hoped the kids were okay.

* * *

When Spencer woke again, it was a surprise. He hadn't expected to wake again. He'd been so sure that explosion was the end of him. And this…this was no afterlife. What was going on? Where was he? His whole body _hurt_ in ways he hadn't even known were possible. It felt like there were hands on him, holding him, but they _hurt_ and he tried to twist, to get away from the pain. Nearby, someone was shouting and Spencer tried to hear what it was, but he lost focus as someone touched—_something—_behind him and the pain of it whited out everything else. He yanked away from the hands. There was a _thud_ followed by a pained cry. Spencer couldn't focus on trying to figure out what it was. He just curled in tighter on himself and tried to ride out the pain.

"Get away from him!" Another voice shouted out. This one, he knew. This one, he recognized immediately. _Derek_. "Back off, just back off, put your guns away!"

"Move, agent! That thing's dangerous!"

Thing, what thing? Spencer whimpered and curled his hands into the ground beneath him. He _hurt_. Everything hurt.

His thoughts were echoed a second later by his friend. "He's hurt!" Derek was snapping at someone. His voice was closer now, almost right up on him. "You were hurting him, of course he reacted. Now just _back off_!"

"Everyone, back up!" This time it was Aaron's voice and there was that edge of command that had directed so many agents over the years. Then there was movement nearby, the sound of footsteps slipping and sliding until they were right up next to him. He swore he could actually hear it as the person crouched down near him and he knew, he should try and open his eyes, but he was so _tired_ and everything _hurt_. "Reid." Aaron's voice was low and calm, right next to him. It was his boss that had come close. "Reid, I know you're hurt, but we need you to…to move. We need to see if the kids are okay."

The kids? _The kids_!

If there was anything geared to get him to open his eyes, it was that. Spencer had them snapped open before he could even stop to think about it. What he saw had him almost immediately relaxing. Both boys were lying there staring up at him, their eyes visible in the shadows around them. Shadows? Why was it so dark? Pressing on his arms, which were still pressed into the ground to help hold him protectively over the boys, he pushed himself up just a little, lifting his eyes off the children and up, and what he saw had him freezing once more.

In a perfect cocoon around them were what looked to be great big sheets of leather? Leather and…was that _bone_? What the hell? He drew back from them and was stunned further when they _moved with him._ A part of Spencer's brain that was the scientist in him whispered the word _wings_ to him. Those were wings. But, what? How? Almost against his will he found one of his hands lifting to reach for that leather right in front of him.

The sight of his hand knocked him right out of numb shock and directly into _terrified_.

In place of his fingernails there now sat a claw at the end of each finger. A long, black claw, curved and deadly looking.

A pained sound tore from Spencer's throat. He didn't notice the sudden tension in the officers nearby. Really, he didn't even notice there were _present_. All of his focus was on staring at the arm that he held out in front of him and the hand that looked nothing like it had before. He held both arms out and stared at them in mute horror. Both hands had claws in lieu of fingernails, and along each forearm were three spikes, curved to point almost toward his elbows, and they were black as night.

Someone was calling out to him but he didn't listen. His hands shot in, running over his chest, checking for more and finding nothing. The same couldn't be said for his face.

His distress grew as these new fingers traced new extended curve of his ears and then up to his forehead where he found, Jesus, _horns_! Two of them, one above each eyebrow, coming to a point about three inches out from his head.

What the hell happened to him? What was _wrong_ with him? He wasn't—he wasn't a mutant! He was a grown adult. He _couldn't_ have mutated!

The horns, spikes, wings and, oh _God_, a _tail,_ all said otherwise.

His wings were trying to curl around him in apparent reaction to his distress. They were huge things, not feathered but more—_dragon like_. The arm of them—he couldn't think of any other word to use—had one bend where he assumed the 'elbow' joint was, and then at the very end it came out into a spike, almost like a giant thumb. From that end joint spread out four long 'fingers', which were spiked on the end, and between those 'fingers' were what he had thought were blankets of leather earlier. They were pitch black, yet Spencer swore there was purple mixed in the darkness.

God, oh God, what was happening to him? What _happened!?_

The sound of his boss's voice broke into Spencer's stupor and he spun himself towards it immediately despite the agonizing pain his body was still in. His new wings drew back so he could see and the people nearby got a look at his face for the first time. They saw the spikes, the horns, and the thing he couldn't see—his eyes. The sclera, what little could be seen, was black, and his pupils had thinned to a slit. His irises were bigger and were a mix of purple and blue, the colors of the night.

The strangeness of his appearance and his quick move, coupled with the low groan he let out when his aching body protested, were all it took to set off the already anxious officers. Three separate shots were fired before Aaron and Derek got control of the situation. By then, it was too late.

One shot had missed, but one had gone through the meat of Spencer's bicep while another hit his shoulder. They'd been aiming high, away from the children still under him. The pain swirled in with the agony Spencer was already under. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.


	27. Reborn In Fire Part 2

_Second half to the last chapter, Reborn in Fire_

* * *

The next time Spencer woke it was to a surprising lack of pain. Considering that his last memories were full of it, the absence of pain was both startling and worrying. But there was a nice, hazy cloud over everything, and there was a part of his brain that was telling him that this hazy and painless feeling wasn't a good one. Before he could really think on that, the world around him seemed to shift and jostle and he was reminded that he'd last passed out after being shot by terrified cops and maybe, just maybe, he should try and figure out what was going on now.

His brain took just a second to wake up enough to really start to take notice of important things. One of the first things he became aware of was that there were people on either side of him, under his arms, carrying him. Spencer blinked open eyes that felt really heavy. What he saw first was the ground, chunks and pieces of rock and dirt and some other kind of rubble. He was right; they were moving. He was being carried somewhere. Only, by who?

That was answered a second later when someone up ahead—it sounded like Emily—called back "Hurry up. I don't know how long the SWAT guys are going to be able to hold the locals back."

"I still can't believe SWAT stepped in to help." Derek said, coming from Spencer's right. Oh. His friend must be the one under his right arm.

The person on his left spoke next. "We can count our blessings later." Aaron Hotchner told them firmly. There was only a slight strain showing that gave away the weight of the body he was helping to drag. "Right now let's focus on getting him out of here before someone finally breaks free."

Spencer knew he should probably try and lift his feet and help them move him. His legs didn't seem to want to cooperate, though. They just hung their limply and dragged along the ground as his friends pulled him inexorably forward. However, he did feel something twitch behind him in response to his efforts, a strange sensation that he wasn't at all sure of. What the hell was that? If his brain could just clear, get rid of whatever this fog was, maybe he'd be able to figure it out. Confused, he concentrated, flexing that weird muscle again.

"Shit." Derek breathed out suddenly. "Guys, he's waking up. Reid? Reid, man, we need you to calm down. We're trying to get you out of here."

Calm down? But he wasn't panicking. He wasn't doing _anything_, really.

His questions must've been obvious because Aaron grunted beside him and quickly said "Your tail and wings, Reid. You're moving your tail and wings. We need you to hold still."

Oh! So _that's_ what those muscles were. Spencer stilled them quickly. He opened his mouth to try and say something, to apologize maybe, only to manage nothing more than a low grunt.

"What's wrong with him?" That was JJ, sounding so worried. "His wounds are healing already, why is he so out of it still?"

The ground under them shifted and Spencer saw it smooth out to flat ground once more. Pavement. They were at the road.

"I don't know." Derek said, grunting a little while he shifted his hold on Spencer.

"Blood loss," The suggestion came from Dave, a little bit ahead of them. "Trauma. Shock. Take your pick. I get the feeling this mutation is new. Can't be easy on the body for that to hit _and_ to take the brunt of an explosion that should've killed him. Now, get him over here. This is the only thing I could think of that he'd fit in."

"The SWAT truck?" JJ said with shock.

Spencer was only half listening to them. His body seemed torn between just floating here or slipping back down into darkness. Then the hands on him were moving and Derek's voice got closer still, right up against his ear, while he felt himself getting pressed right up against what he soon realized as Derek's chest. Apparently Aaron had passed him over to Derek completely. His best friend held him up and drew him in close. "Reid, I know you've got a little control over those wings of yours." Derek murmured to him, low and reassuring. "I need you to try and draw them in so we can get you in the truck. We need to get you out of here before the mutant hating cops get through. Can you do that for me, kid? Just pull on those muscles and draw them in."

"'M tired." The words slipped free as Spencer dropped his head down to rest against Derek's shoulder. Really, he just wanted a soft bed, somewhere that he could rest.

"I know you are, pretty boy. But I need you to pull those on in for me. We've got to get out of here. C'mon, kid, just give it a try. Pull them in."

Under Derek's gentle coaxing, Spencer reached with those new muscles, trying to treat it like they were extra arms. If he thought of them like that, he could almost feel it, feel how they reached out of him. Then, carefully, he pulled them in. He had no idea how big they were. Unlike the others, he couldn't see how the tips of them came a good half foot over the top of his head and the spikes there curled forward somewhat over him, or how the bottoms came close to brushing the ground. They were _massive_ and should've been heavy. But at the moment, he could barely feel them.

He knew it was working when Derek made an approving sound next to his ear. "That's it, kid, there you go. Almost in. Just a little more and we should be able to fit you inside."

"I've got blankets laid out." Emily said from off to their side.

Spencer drew the wings in a little further until he could feel them pressed up against his back.

As soon as they were, he was being moved again. Voices sort of blended together for Spencer with everything else as his body was lifted and then laid down on something soft. He had to lay on his side, wings pulled in close, arms and legs drawn in towards his chest. His tail came up and wrapped around his thigh. The scaled appendage ran mostly smooth until the very end of it, where it was flattened and in an arrowhead like shape. For now, it stayed resting, curled around his leg. All of Spencer was resting. It was all he felt he could do. Simply lie there, shivering slightly as he felt the van come to life beneath him. It didn't even matter that the others had climbed in with him or that someone was up front driving. All that mattered was how tired and _cold_ he was.

"Where do we go now?" Emily asked, her voice coming from somewhere around Spencer's feet. "Where can we take him?"

"Away from here for right now." Derek said lowly.

"Get us to a hotel for now, Dave." Aaron called up to the front. "We can clean him up and figure it out from there."

A chill ran down Spencer and he curled himself in a little tighter. His one wing moved, uncurling just enough to drape over him like a blanket. The bit of extra warmth it provided felt wonderful. Spencer drifted on the hazy feel of it for a little while. He wasn't really sure how long. Everything was still so hazy and he thought that maybe he might've passed out again because the next coherent thing he noticed was that the whole world was shaking. For a moment he thought he was back in the explosion again. Everything was moving and shaking and there were voices crying out again. But, wait, hadn't he gotten out of there? The children were okay. They shouldn't be screaming. So who was screaming?

Hands tightened around him and Spencer tried to move. He tried to push his arms and legs out, even his wings or his tail, but nothing seemed to be working.

"Get your hands off him!" Someone was screaming. Emily? Was Emily screaming?

"Let him go!" Derek shouted.

The hands around Spencer tightened and new voices seeped in. "Hold him!" someone snapped while another said "He's too damn strong!"

Spencer was gathering what little strength he had when all of a sudden something pricked his neck. In an instant, the already hazy world became even hazier.

The last thing he heard was the sound of his friends screaming his name.

* * *

The world was much clearer and quite a bit different the next time that Spencer woke. A skill born of years of habit had him staying still while he woke and slowly assessing the situation around him. It was something he'd learned to do in childhood when there was no telling what kind of mood his mother would be in when he woke, and it had been heightened by years of college and roommates who liked to play practical jokes, plus all the time at the BAU where coming back from unconsciousness generally meant that he was in trouble.

Lying on his stomach, he could feel the softness underneath him that told him he was lying on a bed. Only, he couldn't remember getting to a bed. Was he in some sort of hospital? His brain woke up a little more and memoires started to flash in, some of them telling him that maybe he _should_ be in a hospital. At the very least he should be in pain. But, he wasn't. His body felt fine. No pain, no aches, nothing of the sort. That clashed horribly with the last memories that he had. The explosion, the pain, waking up to find himself _changed, _the gunshots, fleeing, and then—capture. The memories caught up with him and Spencer had to fight not to tense. He'd been taken. By who, he had no idea, but they were powerful enough to come and take him directly from his team.

A thousand different horror stories floated through Spencer's mind. He'd heard countless tales over the years about mutants who were taken. It was one of the things that so many new mutants feared the most. Coming into their powers and being taken away. Spencer's mother had spoken of it once or twice before, the fear she'd felt when her cousin's powers had kicked in. The one and only time that William had ever spoken of his own mutation—that he'd even _admitted_ to being a mutant—he'd been drunk, and he'd told Spencer then that one of the reasons he'd hid was because no mutant wanted to be taken away. What his powers were, he'd never said, just that he didn't want them falling into the wrong hands. For the longest time after he'd left them, young Spencer had been terrified that one of those groups his Dad was so afraid of had come and taken him away.

He'd breathed a sigh of relief when puberty had come and gone for him and no powers had showed up. With it in both sides of his family, he'd known the chances of him being a mutant were high. Nothing had happened, though, and he'd been sure he was safe.

Apparently not.

Latent mutation wasn't unheard of—however, it _was_ highly uncommon. To manifest so late in life was, well, he'd never heard of someone coming into their powers any later than twenty. Let alone a power that was so very, physical. Physical mutations were generally there from birth.

His wings felt heavy against his back. Not heavy like he thought they would, though. Not like there was something pressing on him. More, heavy like his arms felt heavy when he was tired. New muscles were tired from use they weren't used to. The wings themselves? It scared him to realize they felt as natural as any of his other limbs. The…tail, as well.

Soft sound nearby caught Spencer's attention. He very carefully opened one eye, just to a slit, and took in what he could of the room around him. That one look made his stomach plummet. This was very much a lab styled room. Single bed, stone floors, stone ceiling, and all stone walls except for one side of it that had a long glass window way up high, a good fifteen feet he'd estimate, that Spencer was sure would be extra thick, just to make sure he wouldn't be able to break it. Later, if these wings proved flightworthy—wasn't that an insane thought to have?—he'd test that. For now, he pushed back his fear, pushed it down as far as he could, and he drew on a skill Gideon had taught him and that Aaron had helped further perfect. Spencer pushed down the person inside of him and let only the analytical side forward. That part of him would be able to take in details and assess what needed to be done. That part would be able to be practical and unemotional about things. That part was his best chance at making it out of this—_alive_.

There was one person standing on the other side of the glass. A man in his fifties, tall, well groomed, with a definite military bearing despite the suit he wore. Ex-military, then, or trying to hide that he still was.

The newfound mutant didn't stop to question how he could see something so far away with such detail when just yesterday he would've barely been able to see things right in front of him without his contacts in. He also didn't question how it was he could smell chemicals, hospital type chemicals, or how he could clearly hear the _whoosh_ of air running through nearby vents.

Spencer debated between lying here and letting the man watch him or alerting them that he was awake and trying to get some answers. It didn't take him long to decide.

His body responded easily when he pushed himself upright. Any signs of his previous injuries were gone. The gunshots on his shoulder and arm—gone. The pain in his back—gone. All of it was gone. Now, that either meant that his powers granted him some sort of accelerated healing, or he'd been here longer than his memory allowed. The second idea was rather terrifying.

Sitting up took a second to figure out with the addition of his new appendages. Luckily his tail was high up enough that it didn't present a problem sitting normally. His wings, however, were a different story, and he had to sit with his back close to the edge of the bed so that they could hang off the side. Damn, did it feel freaking _strange_ to shift them around. His movements were clumsy, awkward, like a small child learning how to use their limbs for the first time. Once he finally had them settled, he tipped his head up and looked straight up at the window.

The man had stayed in the same position the entire time. Spencer could clearly see the smirk that he wore.

"Hello, Dr. Reid."

The voice came through loud and clear over the speakers that Spencer hadn't noticed before, way up by the high ceiling. The man's voice was low and amused sounding, and something else that Spencer thought might be—pleased? Whatever it was, it set Spencer on edge. Bracing himself, the mutant tried to make his voice sound as steady as possible as he asked "Who are you? And why am I here?"

"I'm Colonel Midland." The man introduced himself, confirming Spencer's observation on his military background. "And I think you know why you're here, Dr. Reid. Currently, you are the oldest known person to have manifested latent mutant abilities. Most especially ones of such a, physical nature. We're here to find out why."

"You're here to figure out if it can be replicated." Spencer fired back. He wasn't stupid; the Colonel had to know that. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on here.

The Colonel smiled at him and it was a look that sent a chill down Spencer's spine. "I suggest you make yourself comfortable, Dr. Reid." He took a step back, casting one last look down at him. "Welcome to your new home."

* * *

_There, is that a better place to leave off? :D_


	28. Magic and Mutants

_"Dimension travel, magic, and mutants"_

* * *

Spencer Reid had always known that he was different from others. The knowledge had always been there, ever present in his mind. It showed in so many different ways. When he was five and was reading a chapter book at the library while the other kids his age were still having books read to them because they could only recognize maybe the random word. Or when he read a few poems out of his mother's book and then recited them, word for word, after only the quick read that he'd given them. His intelligence had always been present in one way or another and it had set him apart from the rest, even in his own mind. Some may have thought that it would be a good thing. Spencer could've told them all that there was nothing he wanted more than to be normal, just like any other kid his age.

But just how different he was really came to light when he was ten. It was another day with another fight where Spencer sat quietly on the floor trying to read a book and stay out of the way. His parents fought frequently anymore. The little boy was far too used to the sounds of it raging around him. He knew that, if he was careful and he stayed out of the way, he might be lucky enough to avoid having any of it spill over on him as had happened all too frequently. With his mother's instability, she would fall on him in tears, aching from the fight and seeking a reassurance that no child should have to offer their parent. Yet Spencer would. He would calm her down, get her to her room, make sure she took her medication and then he would stay with her until she was asleep. By age ten he was already an expert at handing the problems that came from living with a barely medicated paranoid schizophrenic.

It was his father that he wanted to avoid the most. For the most part, William Reid avoided his son. They just did not see eye to eye on anything. William never bothered to hide his disappointment in having a son that wasn't normal. Only a few times had he ever actually struck Spencer. Words hurt far more than fists, though.

This time, though, this fight was different. It was louder, angrier. The violence seemed to be a palpable thing in the air. Spencer swore he felt it building, felt it crushing down on him, smothering him. It grew heavier, like a weighted blanket. The louder the voices grew, the stronger this feeling grew, until Spencer couldn't focus on anything else. He never felt his book drop out of his hands. Pain was filling his head, his heart, his stomach. The anger and violence were battering at him like fists and it hurt, it _hurt_. Through the haze over his eyes, he saw his father lift his hand, saw him raise it as if to strike his mother, and something inside of Spencer suddenly broke apart. He shot to his feet and raced over, shouting with all the strength his ten year old body held. "Stop it!" When he got close, he flung his hand out as if somehow that would stop this. The pressure in him pushed forward, pushed at his hand, and to the shock of the room, an almost solid blue light built like a shield between Spencer and his father.

That day had changed his life. His father had said nothing, only turned and left the house, not to return until hours later when he stumbled in, drunk, and passed out on the couch. While he was gone, Diana Reid sat her son down in her big bed with her and she explained to him what he was. She told him that there were people in the world who were born different than others. Special. People who history had often mistaken for witches, or something evil, when really they were nothing more than regular people. Only, they had something extra. Something special. Her mother, his grandmother, had possessed the abilities of empathy and telepathy. Her brother, the power to call on energy. Those powers seemed to have combined in Spencer. As he grew, his abilities grew with him, getting stronger and stronger. His telepathy was only strong enough for mind speech unless he touched a person; then he could seek their thoughts, their memories. Anything that was hidden in their mind. His empathy was strong. Strong enough that he had to quickly learn mental shields or he would've gone insane from the emotions that battered at him all over the place. The energy power that he had used to protect his mother grew stronger as well. He found he was able to draw energy in from the electricity around him in the world, using it to supplement his own sometimes. He practiced in secret until he gained control of the ability. Until he was capable of not only making a shield, but other constructs as well that could be just as solid. He could gather it as a blast and throw it, but he was by far more comfortable with his shields or using it in his hands.

His mother explained to him that this was something that he mustn't tell anyone. "People like you, like my mother, have been hunted down for years, Spencer. In history we learn about things such as the Salem Witch Trials. What they don't teach you is that the hunting and killing never stopped. They've tried to stamp this out. To cut it out of the human population like a cancer."

"Why?" He'd asked her.

"People don't understand how someone can do something like this. And people generally fear that which they don't understand. They may appear angry and violent, but underneath all anger is a root of some kind of fear."

So she'd instructed him on how to keep himself safe and to keep his secret safe. Spencer had learned about his history that night and he fell asleep feeling just a little special. Yes, he could see the dangers and yes, he knew this only made him more different in the eyes of the world. But this seemed like a nice kind of different. He was a part of something special, his mother told him. How could he deny that when he fell asleep with the sensation of her love an actual presence in his mind?

He should've known nothing good could stay. It was the next day that his father left, claiming he was unable to handle this anymore. Unable to handle her. He left, with just a note for the boy he called son. Left a ten year old with a mother who was mentally ill and who, as time went on, lost the ability to care for herself so that her child was forced to step up and be a parent.

Spencer worked hard. He not only finished high school by age twelve, he obtained his first degree by fourteen. The first of many. He attended Caltech on weekdays and came home to care for his mother on weekends and he worked hard in all aspects of his life. In his public life, he worked after his degrees, always seeking more and more education. In his private life, he balanced caring for his mother and training up his personal powers. When he was eighteen, he finally was legal to have his mother committed to the hospital where she would get the care she needed. But even with her there, he never forgot the lessons she'd taught him. Even in her most delusional state, she had always made sure her son knew he was special. That his powers were a gift and that a gift was meant to be used to help those around him.

That was what prompted Spencer to join the BAU after college. With his IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, the ability to read twenty thousand words per minute, Ph.D.'s in mathematics, chemistry and engineering as well as B.A.'s in psychology and sociology, the FBI had snatched him up quickly, making him the youngest agent ever. They even made exceptions in almost everything physical to finally allow him to be in the field.

It was also what prompted him to seek out others like him. He'd found other people, people with abilities, when he was in college. They directed him to a small shelter in DC where their kind gathered, seeking out those like them and a safe place to hide if need be. His second day in DC, Spencer found the place. From that day forward, he was there as often as he could be, not just visiting but helping. He became an important part of the shelter, providing them with assistance in anything he could.

As the years went by, Spencer grew closer and closer with his team. Still, he never told them what he could do. Not until after Georgia. After Georgia, after the addiction that had dragged him to the lowest point in his life, Spencer had needed someone and his friends had been there. Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia had come to his apartment when he'd been passed out from yet another Dilaudid high and they'd cleaned him up, searched his apartment and disposed of all drugs, and then they'd sat and waited for him. When he woke, they told him it was an intervention and they were not going to stand by and let him kill himself slowly. To this day, Spencer still didn't understand how it happened, but he found himself telling them about his powers. About how Georgia had sapped his mental shields and the Dilaudid made it easier to ignore the emotions around him. To his complete surprise, they hadn't cared at all. It didn't change how they felt about him. As Derek had said "You're still my little brother, kid. Now, what can we do to help you fix your shields?"

Help him they had. Without them, he never would've pulled himself up the way he had. Without them, he would've given in countless times through his recovery. But he had them and they were there, helping him heal, helping him live again.

Years had gone by since then. Spencer's life had come so far from the scared, ten year old boy who had first discovered he was different. If sometimes that life felt just a little empty, that was to be expected with a job like his that took up all his time. And if sometimes the cases seemed to be getting longer, the emotions harder to push back, well, that was expected too. He would handle it, just as he always did. Like his mother said, these powers of his were a gift, and gifts were made to be shared. That was a motto Spencer had learned to live his life by.

* * *

The small clock on the mantle read eight p.m. as Dr. Spencer Reid stood in his living room and grabbed his sweater off the coat tree. The young FBI agent didn't bother stifling a yawn while he pulled his sweater on. It had been a long, tiring day for him and the team he worked with at the BAU. They had just gotten home three hours ago from a case in Leer, North Dakota. For four days the group of profilers had worked hard to catch a serial killer that was targeting black haired women in their late thirties, kidnapping them and beating them to death with his bare hands. It had been a brutal case and it had taken its toll on all of them. They'd been thrilled to finally be able to head home.

Spencer put his gun in the safe in his living room but he didn't think about the credentials that were still in his sweater pocket. He fought back another yawn while he grabbed his keys. While this case had been tiring for them all, he especially felt drained from it. He'd been one of the ones to speak with their survivor, with Emily beside him. Talking to survivors always left him tired because his empathy always ached to take on some of their hurt and ease it for them. So it became a battle to not only keep his shields up but to keep from drawing some of it in. Luckily, now that they were home, they all had the weekend off. He would have plenty of time to recover before work on Monday.

For now, sleep was going to have to be postponed, though. There'd been a message on his phone from a friend, Val, asking him to visit when he was home. Val was the sort of 'house mother' at the shelter here in DC. She'd sounded just a little worried in the message, so instead of waiting for the next day, he was heading out now.

It only took him twenty minutes to get downtown and to the shelter. Val owned the house that was used for this shelter. To the outside world, it looked like a boarding house. In reality, it was a home where those like her, like Spencer, could spend a night or a month, resting safely, maybe even getting help that they might need. The house held twenty rooms and at any given time some or all could be full. After parking in back, he let himself in the back. The ledger there showed him that only four rooms were full at the moment. A woman and her child in one, a young couple in another, a teenager in the next, and a woman in the last.

"Val?" He called out her name as he stepped inside. Things seemed awfully quiet in here. It wasn't that late. The woman routinely stayed up later than this. But in respect for the child, who probably was asleep, he tried not to be too loud. "Val? Is anyone home?"

It was his empathy that warned him. Spencer moved, but not fast enough to completely stop the blow. Something hard caught the side of his head, sending him flying into the wall. Another blow flew into his stomach and then hands were on him, grabbing him and yanking. He was stunned but he wasn't unconscious. He was already starting to struggle before they'd gone a few feet. There was the sound of a door opening and then he was thrown into a room where he hit the hard floor with a solid bounce. Cries echoed around him, none of them coming from him.

With faster reflexes than people might've credited him with, Spencer shoved off the ground, refusing to lie down. He didn't have his gun but he had other weapons if need be. And he was a profiler. He was trained to talk down Unsubs. His head spun and his body ached, but he quickly took in the room with a glance. Val was in here, with people that Spencer assumed were her boarders. They matched up with the basic descriptions from the ledger. They all cowered against one wall, with Val and the teenage boy at the front. Over by the door on the other side of the room stood four men with guns and one without a single weapon showing. Only, he _was_ armed. Spencer's mental abilities picked up just a hint from the man's mind, enough to know that he was like them. He carried powers too. Not only that, but he knew about them all. He knew they did as well and he knew a few of their names, including Spencer's. Shit. Shit! Bracing his feet, Spencer ignored the ache in his knee that reminded him he was only a month off his cane. He put his hands out beside him, keeping them loose and ready. If this man knew what he was then Spencer as not going to be shy about using his powers to defend them if he had to. "What do you want?" He asked them.

"Such an unoriginal question, Dr. Reid." The leader asked. He flashed a broad grin at Spencer, his green eyes sparking with a light that made Spencer's stomach clench. He'd seen the light of madness in the eyes of many an Unsub before. It never boded well. "But an accurate one. What do I want? I have what I want. All of you."

"And why would you want us?" He kept his voice calm, even if he didn't feel it. Mentally, he reached behind him, reaching out to Val. _/Val, are you all okay?/_

Her thoughts came back bright and afraid. _/For now. Spencer, this man, I've been hearing about him from boarders. He's been kidnapping people like us and doing experiments to try and take their powers and put them into him. Rumor is he's found a way. He wants to be strong and then take down humanity/_

Son of…Spencer's stomach clenched. He braced his body even more. He'd heard the rumors of this man as well. Everywhere he went, people ended up missing. The Bureau was hunting him as a serial killer. They had no idea what he was or what he was capable of. Thoughts travel faster than words, so their exchange in thoughts took only a second. The man was just preparing to answer. He flashed another smile at Spencer. "I imagine you know what I want, boy. I know some of them behind you know who I am and I've heard of you and your powers. I imagine they've already told you. But allow me to make a proper introduction." The man folded one arm over his waist and executed an elegant bow. "My name is Roth and I'm going to be taking your powers today."

The cocky arrogance put Spencer's back up. There was no doubt in his voice, as if he were so sure of how this would work out. Well, he had no idea who he was up against. Spencer gave a mocking bow in return while he gathered the energy inside of him. "My name is Spencer, and I say you'll be taking nothing." With that warning, Spencer's hands shot up, one in front of him and one behind him while he issued a mental command to these behind him, demanding they _/Move!/_

Into the empty space he shot a blast of energy, opening a hole in the wall. At the same time, he used his other hand to make a shield between him and the rest of the room. He brought his other hand forward, adding to his shield, and just in time, too. Roth flung out his hand as well and sent a blast of power straight at Spencer's shield. The force of it sent Spencer skidding back a step. He planted his feet, gritting his teeth and throwing more energy into the shield, listening to the movement behind him as the others hurried out. He had to give them time to get out and get moving. He had to hold! Reaching to the electricity in the house, Spencer drew it in to supplement his own. The power seemed to crackle in him and over his skin.

Roth strode forward, one hand coming out with a red light of his own. He pressed that red light right up against Spencer's shield and suddenly the effort of holding it became so much more. Spencer gritted his teeth and drew more energy to him, feeding it into his shield. He vaguely saw the men with guns leaving and he spared enough energy to warn Val _/The men with guns are coming. Get to the tunnel in back and get out of here! I can't hold them off! I'll catch up with you later/_ Then all his attention was focused solely on keeping his shield up. He knew, he just _knew_, if he lost this, he would lose so much more. The power in Roth's hand crackled and grew. A small crack started in Spencer's shield. No! Sweat popped out on his brow. Surprisingly, he thought of his mother then. Her gentle voice, so proud of him as he gained control. Then Morgan, grinning at him, telling him he was a hell of a lot stronger than he thought. Garcia's sweet encouragement. Aaron's small, proud smile he gave for a job well done. Emily's happy presence and bright eyes. David's teasing laugh and silent support. Drawing strength from those, Spencer fed more of his energy, grunting with the effort of holding.

"Give it up, boy." Roth hissed at him. It pleased Spencer to hear the slight strain in his voice. "There's nothing for you to go back to. My men are at your apartment right now, staging your 'death'."

They were _what_? _It doesn't matter_ he told himself. _Win this and you can go back. They'll see you aren't dead. Ignore him!_ Spencer pushed more and more power, pulling more electricity from the house. He saw Roth pouring more power as well until the two lights were so bright Spencer swore he was blinded by them. Then suddenly there was a surge of power through the house. He'd drawn too much, too fast, and the resulting power surge slammed into him before he could think of a way to block it. It ran through him and into his shield with a bright flash and a blast of impact that seemed to echo through the whole room. Spencer found himself thrown back as the light between them exploded.

* * *

The whole world turned to pain and light and sound and then he was falling. He landed hard, knocking the air out of him, almost managing to knock him out. Pain echoed through his body. The shock of it had him lying still, stunned. Then he heard movement nearby and his brain caught up with the rest of him. Roth! Roth was still here. _Move, move _his brain told him. _Don't lie here. Move!_

Spencer placed his hands on the ground, bracing his body to try and rise. His eyes blinked open, still slightly light-blinded. His hands slid slightly over the ground, drawing his attention to something strange. Was that dirt under his hands? Had he been blasted out of the house? It didn't matter. Pushing, Spencer got himself to one knee, ignoring the ache in his other. His eyes cleared and he saw Roth rising as well, light already glowing around his hands. Spencer swore and shoved to his feet, calling his power in just enough time to make a shield and block the blast Roth sent to him. The man surprised him completely with his next move. Instead of sending another blast, Roth dove to him, right underneath his shield. He took out Spencer's legs, toppling them both.

It was one of the most difficult fights Spencer had ever been in. Not only was he trying to get free, but he had to fight to keep Roth from being able to throw an energy blast this close. Fighting had never been one of Spencer's strong suits. He was just barely managing to hold his own as they rolled through the dirt. Roth managed to twist them, pinning Spencer down, and the young genius was trying to gather enough of his depleted energy to blast the man off of him when suddenly something shot out of the trees and right into Roth, knocking the man off of him. The force of it rolled Spencer sideways.

When he pushed himself up, he saw Roth and someone else standing a few feet away, hands held at the sides. Only, the newcomer….Spencer gaped when he saw the six metal claws that extended from the man's hands, three on each hand.

The fight that came next was almost too fast for Spencer to see. His head was still spinning and whatever the hell had happened with that power surge had sucked away most of his energy so that he fought to stay conscious. He pushed back the darkness tinting the edges of his vision and he shoved at the ground once more, trying to gain his feet, trying to help the newcomer. He tried to put weight on his one leg and pain exploded in his knee, making him gasp. That sound drew the newcomer's attention and Roth took advantage, firing a blast at the man. Spencer shot out a hand, firing one right back at Roth. The flashes of light lit the area around him, illuminating what looked like a forest. Roth dodged from the light, using his own energy to take to the sky. He propelled himself up and out of the clearing and was gone in a flash.

There was no time for Spencer to feel relief. The other man spun toward him and Spencer didn't even get a chance to brace before the man leapt at him and tackled him to the ground. Spencer hit with a solid thud that knocked the air out of him and had him seeing stars. The sound of claws embedding themselves in the ground by his head had his head clearing quickly. His eyes snapped open and he found himself staring up into a pair of golden eyes that held not a hint of humanity to them. It was the look of an animal. The look of a predator. Spencer had seen a look like that before and his body reacted instinctively to it now, doing what his instincts told him was the only thing that would help him to survive. Spencer knew that trying to move away was not the smartest plan right now. He had to appease the animal over him or those claws might pierce him next. Though it went against the grain, Spencer did the one thing he was sure would save him and keep him from becoming prey. He took a shuddered breath and forced his body to relax. Then he drew his chin up and exposed his throat, praying the whole time that he was making the right decision. He could be opening himself up to be killed here. But he knew in his current state he stood no chance of getting away. He could only offer up this sign of submissiveness and pray that it would please the beast over him.

His eyes drifted shut and his body shuddered when he felt the man move. He felt the sharp prick of teeth right over his throat and he couldn't stop the slight whimper that slipped out. The teeth moved and then he felt a nudge against his chin followed by a quick nip. Cautiously, he reached out with his empathy, brushing against the man's emotions. What he felt was a strong sense of concern and an urge to defend. The man drew his hand up, those amazing claws drawing into his skin, shocking Spencer. Then, he shocked Spencer even more by touching his temple and growling. That concern grew, twined with a little anger. The brief touch gave Spencer a quick look at the thoughts in the man's mind, showing him an animalistic need to protect one he perceived as an injured pup—aka, Spencer.

Those golden eyes traveled over him and the man started snuffing, testing scents in the air most likely. Spencer held still as he was sniffed from head to toe. Privately, he was grateful he had experience with one like this. He knew better than to try to get away. It also gave him insight into what was most likely going on. The man was checking him over for more injuries.

Sudden sounds interrupted them, the sounds of footsteps racing through the trees, and the man was up in an instant, taking up a defensive crouch, very obviously shielding Spencer. His claws slid out of his hands and he started to growl as people suddenly burst into the clearing.

There were five of them and their appearance stunned Spencer. He had never seen anyone quite like them. They were all dressed in…was that spandex? They were dressed like superheroes or something. One of them had a visor over his face that made Spencer think randomly of Star Trek. Beside him was a fire haired woman and then a blond haired boy whose hands looked like they were made of…of _ice_. On the other side was a girl with two white streaks in her hair that was _flying_ above them and then an auburn haired man in a trench coat and sunglasses, even though it was night.

The one with the visor looked at the man over Spencer and he called out "Wolverine! What's going on here? What happened?"

The fire haired woman put a hand on his arm and said "He's feral, Cyclops."

Wolverine? Cyclops? Spencer logged those away in his brain. Apparently these people knew the man over him—Wolverine, it would appear. Did that mean they'd be as friendly as Wolverine? Until he knew what was going on, Spencer wasn't going to take chances. He tried to push himself up off the ground only to find a hand on his chest, pushing him back down. Wolverine growled at him and Spencer felt the flash of warning from him as well as annoyance. He played up the part of pup, giving him a soft whimper that he tried to make sound just a little questioning. Wolverine gave a firm push to his chest before letting go and looking back at the others.

"Would you look at that?" The guy with the ice-hands said. The ice was fading off of his hands, revealing normal hands underneath. "He's defending the guy."

The one with the trench coat held his hands out and took a few steps towards them, ignoring Wolverine's growls. He flashed a smile at Wolverine and spoke in a voice Spencer could feel was laced with a charming sound and with something a little, extra. "Wolvie, it's okay, _mon ami_. Y' aint got nothin' to worry bout. Y' know Gambit, _oui_? Gambit aint gonna hurt y' or y'r pup. He looks hurt. Y' let Gambit help y'?"

That 'extra' to his words grew, a sort of persuasion wrapped around them, and Spencer saw Wolverine start to relax a little. Spencer took a chance and touched the man's arm. When Wolverine's eyes snapped to him, Spencer projected a sense of safety, hoping he was doing the right thing. He didn't try for words as the others did. The animal in him most likely wouldn't understand anything but the tone. Instead, he kept his hand on Wolverine's skin and kept up the calming sensations, despite how it made his head spin. He must've hit his head harder than he thought at some point. Wolverine had touched it before and growled, which probably meant there was an injury there. Combine it with how depleted his energy sources were and then the fight and he was left with a massive headache pushing at his skull.

Wolverine's growl slowly faded away and Spencer saw as the gold in his eyes changed into a bright blue. The claws slid into his hands and he blinked his eyes a few times, clearing them. His emotions changed, pulling out of the animal and into the human. Spencer let his hand drop and he rolled to his side, moving his hand up to his head. The headache pulsed and nausea churned in his stomach so that he couldn't stop himself as he emptied his stomach right there in the dirt. The force of his heaving was just too much and Spencer felt the blackness sucking at the edges of his consciousness. There was no stopping it. He just managed to pull back so that he didn't land in his own vomit as the blackness finally claimed him.

* * *

Consciousness returned with a flash of pain through Spencer's head. It stabbed at his eye like an ice pick, making it so that he couldn't restrain the moan that came to his lips, or the way his head turned away from the light that had created the pain. His reaction created a stir of sound around him and the rest of the world became clear again. Spencer had woken up this way often enough to recognize where he was even before he opened his eyes. The beeping sounds around him, the feel of the bed underneath him, the antiseptic smell in the air; he was in a hospital. The beeping beside his bed increased, getting just a little faster, and then there was a voice right beside him, warm and deep. "You are safe, young man. You are in a hospital."

The only thing that kept Spencer's shock on the inside when he finally managed to open his eyes was years and years of practice. None of his shock showed on the outside. The man standing beside his bed was covered in _blue fur_. The first thought Spencer had when his shock gave way was that it was amazing the man had managed to survive to adulthood looking that way. The ones whose powers showed in an obvious physical way were generally killed at birth unless parents could secret them away. Others that made it through childhood were often killed before they became adults.

He brought a hand up towards the pained part of his head only to be stopped by the kind, blue man beside him. "I haven't had a chance to clean that yet, young man. My friends just brought you in to me. I only managed to clear them out moments ago. Well, except for our Wolverine over here." The man lifted his head and smiled to someone across the bed and Spencer turned to see the Wolverine standing there, watching him with eyes that were still that bright blue. The guy gave him a smile with just a hint of fang to it. "Hey, pup."

Looking from one to the other had given Spencer a view of the room he was in. He took a closer look now, taking in the strangeness around him. This wasn't a hospital. Not a normal hospital. This…it looked like a laboratory. His heart started to speed up again. Turning, he looked at the blue guy. "Where am I?" Was that his voice? It sounded just a little hoarse and nowhere near as steady as he wanted it to be. "This is not a hospital."

"This is _my_ hospital. I'm Dr. McCoy, physician to the X-Men. You are in our home, in our medical lab. The team brought you here when you collapsed in the forest."

Physician to the _who_? The pounding in his head grew a little more and he squeezed his eyes shut against it before opening them again. God, he wished he had sunglasses. The overhead lights were making his headache worse. He needed his head clear so he could think. There were important questions he should be asking right now. But the only one he could think of at first was "What are the X-Men?"

That stopped Dr. McCoy in his tracks. His hands froze over the tray he'd been grabbing and he gave Spencer a curious look. "The X-Men are a group of mutants such as yourself."

"Mutants?"

The two men exchanged a look over his bed. "Maybe he hit his head harder than we thought." Wolverine suggested. He looked down at Spencer. "What's yer name, kid?"

"Dr. Spencer Reid." He deliberately left off the SSA, but years of being referred to by his coworkers as Dr. Reid had put him in the habit of adding the 'Doctor' to the beginning of his name. "And I am not suffering from amnesia, if that's what you are trying to ascertain. I did not hit my head hard enough for that." Because these two were obviously gifted like he was and because they'd already seen his gifts, he saw no reason to try and hide them. "I passed out because of energy loss after burning too much out fighting with Roth. I used too much of my personal energy and drained myself. My mind, though pained, is clear."

His speech seemed to have stunned them a little. Wolverine ended up shaking his head, a half grin on his face. He looked to Dr. McCoy. "Might wanna call Jeannie down here, Blue. With Chuck gone, she's the only one that might be able to find out what's going on."

"I think you may be correct. Would you go and get her for me, Wolverine? I'd like to patch up our guest's injuries while I wait."

Wolverine left the room and Dr. McCoy moved up beside Spencer once more, pulling on gloves. "Allow me to clean your head, Dr. Reid. You have a nasty looking laceration on your temple."

He could feel it throbbing there. As nervous as this all made him, he knew he needed to let himself be taken care of. Better to let any injuries be treated so that he was in better condition and more capable of taking care of himself. Something was going on here, something strange, and he didn't know what it was. Until he did, he was going to have to play it safe. "Thank you. I'd appreciate that." He said politely. But when he saw the man lift a needle, he couldn't help how he pulled back. Dr. McCoy saw his reaction and paused, trying to look reassuring. "This is simply something for the pain, Dr. Reid."

"I can't take narcotics." He said quickly. That was vitally important.

One of Dr. McCoy's eyebrows went up, but he didn't argue it. He put the needle down and prepared a new one, showing Spencer the bottle before he did so he could see it was non-narcotic. Though Spencer couldn't help but clench up through the needle puncture, he did sigh afterwards in anticipation of the coming relief. While it wouldn't take away the pain completely like the morphine would, it would still do the job well enough. He settled back on the bed and closed his eyes, his brain racing to try and figure things out. What the hell was going on here? And where was he? He thought about those questions as Dr. McCoy started to clean his head.

* * *

The wound on his head had been cleaned and bandaged, thankfully with tape and not stitches, by the time the doors opened once more and Wolverine came back in with the fire haired woman from the forest. With her also came the guy with the visor. Spencer couldn't help but profile them as they came toward him. It took all of five seconds for him to realize that the two were an item. Not only did it show in the way they moved toward one another, but he lowered his shields enough to be able to see the colors around them and he could see how they were twined together, brighter when they were closer. It was also easy to see that the man with the visor—they'd called him Cyclops in the forest—was the authority in this group. He'd carried that authority when they'd come up on them and he carried it now. It was there in his walk, in the way he moved, the firmness to his voice. He was someone used to giving orders and having them followed. He was a leader.

They came right to his bed and Spencer sat up, only wincing a little bit as he did. He was grateful they hadn't gotten him into a hospital gown yet. He was still in his own clothes. Though dirty, they were a better cover than the gown, and he would've felt too exposed in the gown right then.

Cyclops stopped at the foot of the bed while the red haired one came up and sat on the edge of the bed. There was a kind, almost motherly air about her, yet an edge as well. He could see that she was the kind to care for people and to care quite a bit, yet she was dangerous as well. There was something there, something about her that warned him that she could be very, very dangerous if she so chose. He would have to be careful with her. Which way would she go with him?

For now, it seemed to be the caring route. Her smile was sweet and her expression gentle. "Hello, Dr. Reid. My name is Jean. May I sit and talk with you a moment?"

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her. She was talking to him almost like he was a child. _No, not like a child. She's talking to you like you're a victim .She's talking to you the way Prentiss would speak with a traumatized victim in a hospital._ That surprised him. Why would she talk to him that way?

He had no idea about the image he presented to them, dirty and bruised. "Of course, ma'am." He resisted telling her that, technically, she was already sitting, so she didn't have to ask permission for that.

"Wolverine tells me that you didn't recognize who the X-Men are. Or the label of mutants."

"Correct."

"Do you know of the Avengers?"

The who? He furrowed his brows and cocked his head to the side a little. "No, ma'am."

"What about any of us? Do you know anyone in this room?"

That was a rather strange question. Spencer took a second to watch her before he decided to answer. "The man here is Dr. McCoy, as he introduced himself to me when I woke here in this bed. The man with the claws over there is Wolverine and he's the one that saved me out in the forest. The man at the foot of the bed was called Cyclops, if I remember correctly what you said. It's slightly fuzzy, as my head was spinning at the time. But beyond that earlier meeting? No, I don't recognize any of you, nor your names."

He felt Jean's surprise as easily as he read it on her face. Then he felt her concern grow before it morphed into a bit of determination and conviction. "Dr. Reid, Wolverine told us that you used powers out in the forest. That you threw a ball of blue light. I'm a mutant, just like you, only I have the power of telepathy. I'd like to step into your mind if you'll let me and see what happened to you. Maybe that'll make things a little more clear for all of us."

There was that word again. Why did she keep calling him a mutant? Her casual use of the word and the way the others didn't finch made him wonder. Was that what these people considered themselves? Had he stumbled on a group of people with powers that had somehow managed to survive by banding together like this? He bit his lip in thought. In answer to her request, he finally closed his eyes and sighed out a breath, making a small opening in his mental shields. He felt her presence there a moment later and he allowed her in, sheltering what she was able to see and what she wasn't. _/Only the night's events, mind you. I have shielding around the rest of my mind and I don't want to see you hurt when you try to go somewhere you're not allowed to go, ma'am/_

_/I won't go where I'm not allowed, Dr. Reid/_

He drew up the memory of the night, starting from leaving his apartment, and he allowed her to view it all. When it was finished, he could feel her shock. _/At the flash of light, it was as if you teleported. As if your powers combined and you teleported/_

_/Or something else/_ A sickening thought hit him and he found his whole body going utterly still. _/Ma'am, is this the president?/_ He pulled up a mental image of the President and let her see. The shock he felt was answer enough.

_/No. You said you've never heard of the X-Men and the term mutants seemed to confuse you…/_

_/Where I'm from, I'm not considered a mutant. There are no 'mutants'/_

The two drew their thoughts back from one another and Spencer opened his eyes, finding her expression just as shocked as he knew his had to be. There was no way; no possible way. This couldn't be true. "It can't be." He told Jean hoarsely. Everything else fell away as the implication of their joined thoughts hit him square in the gut. "It just can't."

"It's not the first time it's happened in these parts." Jean countered. "It is possible."

"In theory. I suppose the combination of my own energy and his, plus the power surge, could've been enough to have created some kind of tear…" Spencer trailed off, his mind racing. He could see the theory of it and the possibilities that stemmed from there. But thinking of the theory was one thing! Actually having it happen was another!

"What's possible?" Cyclops spoke up, cutting into their daze. "What's going on?"

Jean turned to look at her partner, tipping her face up towards his. "I'm not quite sure. I don't have the skill that the Professor does. But if I'm right…I believe that, when Dr. Reid was fighting the man, their combination of energy opened a, well…"

"A portal." Spencer interjected. His eyes were still wide and his voice had gone slightly flat. "My energy combined with Roth's and then the power surged through the house and into us and the light flashed and we landed in the forest. I went from a house in DC to a forest here, wherever this is. We created a portal to a world that isn't ours."


	29. Witness Protection

_This is something OLD I found on my computer. Now, I have a small feeling that there's a chance I might've stolen a bit from this to use in a different story. If that's so, and you recognize a little bit, sorry :P Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this :D_

_Warnings for triggers: child abuse, slightly graphic_

* * *

_Silence fell over the dining room like a thick blanket. It was smothering; the little boy felt as if he couldn't breathe. His wide eyes were drawn inexorably from the broken bowl on the ground, up toward the man who was glaring furiously at him. The chili that had been in the bowl now spread over the floor, touching the young boy's toes, hot but not hot enough to burn, thankfully. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, could only stare and wait for the fury he knew was coming._

_The man rose from his chair at the table. When the older boy made to move, the man shot him a furious look and snapped "Do not move."_

_"It was an accident, Dad." The older boy insisted. He kept to his chair, though. They both knew the consequences of disobedience. Things could take a turn for the worse very quickly._

_Dad shot him a menacing look. "Sit there and keep your mouth shut or you'll both get it and his will be double. Are we clear?" he snarled. No sound came from the older boy. He just nodded. Satisfied he was being obeyed, Dad turned to look at the young boy who was now trembling. "Pick up the pieces. Each one."_

_The little boy rushed to obey. He trembled, knowing this wasn't going to be his only punishment. He couldn't be so lucky. His hands shook so hard he almost couldn't pick them up, but he finally managed to get each broken shard into the garbage can. Then he stood, waiting for what came next. He didn't have long to wait. Dad came around the table, wrapping a fist in his hair. The little boy made not a sound despite the pain that sprang to life. When he was forced to the ground he still kept silent. Speaking always made it worse._

_Dad forced his face down into the spilled chili, holding him there. "Lick it up. All of it. Or I swear to God I'll paddle you until you can't sit for the next two weeks."_

_With silent tears streaming down his cheeks, the little boy obeyed. What other choice did he have? Dad's hand was in his hair, forcing him against the floor, holding him there as he was forced to clean the mess like a dog. All the while his tears flowed silently. When would this hell end?_

* * *

The day had been way, way too long. Leaning his head back against the wall, Spencer let his eyes close, feeling the peace on the jet soothe him down. This case had been a long and difficult one and he, as well as the rest of the team, was very ready to head home. It was soothing to listen to the soft turn of a page as David Rossi read his book, or the sound of Emily's even breathing as she slept away on the couch. Aaron was also asleep, or at the least he was resting his eyes. Derek was in his seat with his headphones on, same as always, a soft sort of hum coming from his direction being the only sound caught from those headphones.

Someone moved right near Spencer and he opened his eyes to see JJ standing by him, a mug in each hand. "You looked like you could use this. It's tea, to settle down with." Her smile was sweet and motherly, a look he was well used to from her. Instinctively Spencer curled his legs up so that there was room for her on the couch. He reached up and took the mug from her, giving her a smile in return. "Thank you."

"You doing okay, Spence?" JJ settled down by him, curling her legs up and turning toward him. "You looked, I don't know…you've been a little off the past few days."

It was the truth. He hadn't been himself at all these past few days and he knew it. The only explanation he could offer was "Cases like this, they always bother me more than others, you know?"

Her look turned understanding. "I do. It's always harder when it's children."

Little boys between the ages of five and seven had been taken throughout the city of Denver, Colorado. The boys had all been held hostage for three days. All the boys showed signs of being sodomized as well as assaulted repeatedly during their captivity. The body count had been up to five when the BAU had been brought in. One more boy had died, but they had managed to save the last one. He'd been with the Unsub for two days when the team finally managed to track the man down. Though it had been touch and go at the house for a bit, with the man using the boy as a shield, eventually they had talked him down and the arrest had been made.

His team had been slightly surprised when Spencer had offered to be the one to speak with the boy at the hospital. He'd done so privately—even the boy's mother had left the room, at her son's request. Allan was seven years old. It made Spencer's heart ache to think of the things the boy was going to live with for the rest of his life.

JJ's hand brushed against his knee, reminding Spencer where he was once more. He blinked a few times, flushing just a little. "Sorry." He apologized before taking a sip of his tea.

"You know, Spence, we saved that last boy. Allan is alive. His mom's going to get him help and he's going to be okay from this, eventually." She put her hand back by his knee and squeezed it lightly. "Those are the things we have to remember. We saved him and now, now he can heal."

Eyes drifting down to his cup, Spencer spoke without thought. "Can he?" The words were soft, yet packed with emotion. "Can anyone ever heal from something like this? Do those scars ever actually go away? Or is that just another lie we tell ourselves to make it all seem that much easier?" Abruptly he cut himself off and shook his head. His eyes, when they lifted to JJ, carried a more cynical expression than she'd ever seen on her young friend. "I'll be okay, JJ. I think I'm just tired." The hint in those words was obvious, made more so by the way he adjusted himself so that he was a little more curled into the couch. JJ caught the hint and, though she gave him a strange look, she rose. Though she couldn't say why, she ran a hand over his hair when she passed him, almost like she often did with Henry.

For the rest of the ride home, Spencer stayed quietly on the couch, his thoughts turned inward. When they arrived, he gratefully accepted the ride home that Derek offered him. That man filled the ride with laughter and conversation that had Spencer relaxing a little. By the time he reached his apartment, some of the tension was gone from his shoulders. He couldn't help but smile at Derek while climbing from the car. "Thanks, Morgan." With a look, he let Derek know that he was thanking him for more than the ride home.

"Anytime, pretty boy." Derek reassured him. "Now, go get some of your precious beauty sleep. And don't stay up late reading!"

Laughing, Spencer shook his head, making his way away from the car. Derek really was a one in a million kind of friend. He was the kind of friend a person always knew they could count on. Whether it was for a smile, a laugh, someone to vent to, or someone to have your back—he was there.

After checking his mailbox and putting his mail into his messenger bag, Spencer made his way up the stairs to his floor, pulling his keys out as he moved. It was one in the morning, so no one was out as he unlocked the locks on his door and let himself in. As soon as he got in the door, he shut it behind him and turned to the security panel, checking the display before entering the code. Then, as he did every time he came home, he walked his apartment, checking each room as he went—'clearing' the apartment. Only when he was sure it was secure did he return and lock the door as well as arm the system.

A sigh slipped out when he took his bag off and set it down on his couch. Man, it was good to be home. Good to be out of a hotel and away from death, just for a little while. Here where he was alone, he indulged himself, going to his kitchen and taking out a bottle of wine. He opened the bottle first and then took it and a glass back to his bedroom with him, stopping along the way to grab his mail from his bag. Once back there he set his items on his nightstand before changing out of his work clothes and into a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. He tossed his clothes into the laundry basket and took his gun over to the gun safe, locking it away.

Now that he was comfortable, he climbed right into bed, adjusting the pillows so that he could sit propped up against the headboard. Then he poured himself his first glass of wine and picked up the first letter in his stack of mail. His eyes scanned quickly over the familiar scrawl on the outside of the envelope; already he was smiling at it. When he opened the letter, it took his brain nothing to read the words there and decipher the code they were written in so that he could real the real message hidden underneath.

_Spencer,_

_I thought of you today when I was at a meeting. Yes, I actually attended one of their meetings. Shocking, I know. Anyways, I find that happening constantly. My thinking of you, that is, not me attending meetings. You're never far from my thoughts. But I was stuck sitting in meetings today and they were discussing something that they'd intercepted from their Greatest Rival. Of course, it's written in code. However, it looks to be some kind of mathematical code. I looked at it and all I could picture in my mind was the look you would have on your face as you set to solve the puzzle. That little light in your eyes, the way that you smile to yourself when you really get into your work, or frown when something isn't matching up right. I could see that look of excitement when you finally crack the puzzle you're working. All I could see was you, Spencer. Always you._

_There are some days I know that we made the right choice, separating like this. It's safer this way and it's more practical. Other days, I can't help but hate it. I never thought it would take us this long. I thought that, by now, we would have been able to do something. I was always convinced that we would be able to solve this, you and I. Yet time goes by, and more time, and still more time, and then I wake up and I look around and realize that it's not just days that have gone, not just months, but years. Years I have missed out on being with you. Years we have been forced to stay apart._

_We are safe this way, I know. You are safe. To me, nothing is more important than that. Still, I wonder some days, what kind of life are we leading? Safe, yes. Happy…not truly. How can I ever be happy when I'm here and you're there? How can I be happy when I climb into my cold bed each night and wake up alone every morning? How can I be truly and completely happy when you are not here by my side to share in my joys with me? To hold my hand through the sorrows?_

_My heart aches with missing you this night, Spencer. I apologize for the sad note to this letter. I didn't set out to write it this way. Things just seem harder lately. The days longer and the nights colder. My arms feel empty; they ache to hold you. It has been six months since I saw you last and that is far, far too long. Maybe that's why I'm so melancholy. Maybe it's because my heart is craving to see you, my hands aching to reach out and touch your skin or feel that silky hair I so love to play with. My body is filled with longing for your tender touch._

_Before I embarrass myself by giving in to the tears blurring my eyes and they fall to mar this page, I'm going to end this. Until the next letter, know that you are in my thoughts, my heart, as you always have been and always will be._

_I love you_

_Remy_

Tears slid down Spencer's cheeks silently. Looking at the page in front of him, he let out a trembling little breath. "I love you too." He whispered.

* * *

When Scott Summers walked into his office first thing that morning, it didn't surprise him in the least to find the resident Cajun leaning on the wall by the open window, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands. This was a morning ritual for the two that neither ever spoke of to anyone else. Not even the Professor knew of their morning meetings. Living around telepaths, Scott was pretty adept at shielding his thoughts and a little private training from Remy had helped make him even more adept. There was no one who had shields as strong as Remy did.

Scott shut the door behind him, shuffling the mail as he walked. "Morning, Rems."

"_Bonjour, mon ami_." With a flick of his fingers, Remy sent his cigarette flying out the window to explode with a small _pop_ in the air. The man made his way over to his favorite chair on the other side of Scott's desk and settled himself down into it at the same time that Scott sat in his own chair behind the desk. The older man said nothing else yet, knowing what it was Remy was waiting for. There, almost at the bottom of the stack, Scott found it. Remy's letter. He pulled it out and tossed it to Remy, who caught it easily.

Remy set his mug down on the coaster on the desk that Scott kept just for him and then started to open his letter. He was already smiling before he even got it fully open. With a skill born of practice, he easily deciphered the code there as he read through one of the letters that made his life bearable.

_Remy,_

_Do you have any idea what it does to my heart to read letters like the one I just got from you? I'm sitting here in my bed at almost one thirty in the morning, crying into my glass of very good wine because of the words you wrote. It's taking everything I have not to simply pack up my things, turn in my resignation, and race to you. I love my job and I love the people that I work with, but I would leave them all in a heartbeat to come and be with you._

_I think of you too, my love. Constantly. You are never far from my thoughts. Sometimes I get a memory of you so strong that it makes me ache with need for you. It's gotten to where I can't even accept Jennifer's invitations to come to her house to eat or visit because I can't stand being around Will. Every time he speaks with that Louisiana drawl, I hear you. I eat the food he makes for them and I can't help but remember the countless times you've cooked for me. They tease me about being so skinny and I hear your voice telling me that you're going to put weight on me one of these days. I hear him call her his love with those whispered French words and I want to cry, I ache so much to hear those from you. To feel you wrap your arms around me and hold me so close the way that you do, your breath warm on my neck while you whisper those words that always warm me from the inside out. To see you, hear you, smell you, feel you, it's all I want. You're like a drug for me that I can never get enough of._

_I know that you're right and I know that what we're doing is right. We are safer this way. It'll be harder for us to be found this way, apart like this, and we can accomplish so much more working two fronts at once instead of confining our efforts to one or the other. I know, in my head, that this is logical. Every time we've been found, we've either been together or recently been together. As I said, my head knows this. My heart, though? Not so much. My heart wants only to be with you._

_You're not the only one feeling melancholy. I just got home from the missing children's case in Denver, Colorado. Those poor children, Remy. So many lost and only one did we manage to save, yet what kind of life did we save him for? Everyone talks about his healing now. They talk about how he's going to be okay after counseling and time. Maybe he will be. I hope he will. Maybe knowing that the man that did this is rotting in jail will give him the ability to find some closure. I pray hard that this is true. But I can't help but feel angry when people speak as if everything is magically going to be okay for him now. It won't. The terror and shame will take time to fade for him. The road ahead is a long and painful one and I ache to see such a sweet child have to go through that._

_I know this letter isn't long, but you're not the only one fighting tears. I'm going to put this letter aside to send in the morning and then I'm going to curl up here in my empty bed, with only your shirt to cuddle against, though it's long since lost the scent of you, and wish with everything I have that you could be here._

_I love you_

_Spencer_

For a long minute Remy just stared at the words on the page, not even realizing as they started to blur before him. In his mind he could clearly see Spencer lying on that spacious bed of his, curled up in Remy's shirt, crying quietly to himself. "_Merde_." He cursed quietly to himself. One hand came up to swipe at his eyes, trying to take away the tears that seemed to want to keep coming. Hands shaking only slightly, he folded the letter up, putting it back in the envelope before putting it into one of the pockets on his trench. He had to wipe at his face again as a few more tears leaked out. He gave a watery chuckle as he looked up at Scott. "_Je suis désolé_, Scotty."

"It's fine." Scott reassured him softly. "Is he okay?"

Scott was the only person in Remy's life that knew the truth. Knew who he really was, what had happened to him, and who Spencer was. With no one else did Remy or Spencer trust their secret. Remy had been forced to trust someone when he came here. After much debate between Remy and Spencer, the two had decided on Scott. It had been the best decision either one of them had ever made. He was their greatest ally in this and had quickly become one of their closest friends.

As he picked his cup back up, another sigh slid from Remy. "_Oui_. Lonely, y' know? We never thought it'd take dis long. Don't know how much longer we can do dis, Scotty. It's getting so hard." He made a frustrated sound. With an angry swipe, he cleaned the last of the tears from his face. "_Merde_, it's like dis t'ing is just hanging over us. We want to pretend it aint dere, but it always is. And until it's gone, t'ings aint gonna be normal. Just wanna live, cher. Wake up to him and fall asleep with him dere. Just live as us, _oui_? No more fear, no more lies. Just Remy and Spencer, de way it's supposed to be."

"We'll get him, Remy." The low promise from Scott was packed with determination. "I swear. I won't stop until I help you two get him. Then you two can make up for lost time with one another."

Remy drummed up a shadow of his smile. "_Dieu_, dat sounds nice. One day, yeah? One day." And it was that hope for 'one day' that kept him going. He would hold on because, one day, they would have their dream. He had to believe that. If he didn't, he might go mad.


	30. AU1

_Random old AU story I found. No X-Men, no BAU..._

* * *

The smell of brewing coffee led Spencer Reid out to his tiny apartment kitchen. The first cup was poured and mixed on autopilot, the movements so familiar he could perform them with his eyes closed—and he practically did. It was drank standing in the middle of his kitchen. By the time the first cup was gone, his brain felt awake enough to actually start to function some. The second cup was poured and carried with him to the bathroom, where he drank it as he prepared his shower. It was the same ritual he'd completed every morning for the past two months, ever since he'd moved into this apartment. The shower was the second step in bringing him to an alert state.

After finishing his shower and brushing his teeth, he'd dress and make his way back out to the kitchen for the last cup in the pot. Then, he'd sit down at his little table and check any messages on his machine while sifting through his mail or reading the paper. Some mornings it was a little harder than others to drag himself out of bed. This was one of those mornings. Even when he was settling down at his table with that third cup of coffee, he still felt tired. One hand lifted to run through long, shaggy brown hair, brushing the still wet strands back from his face. Then he pressed the play button on his answering machine before sitting back in his chair to listen.

The first message was from his oldest brother, Scott. _"Hey, Sherlock. I probably just missed you. Listen, I hate to do this, but Rach came home from school feeling like shit and her temp is up. It looks like she caught the bug the other kids at school had. If it's anything like what the other kids had, she'll be down for a day or so. I'm really, really sorry, but could you manage opening up the shop today? Piotr should be in by noon and McKenna will be there by eight. If you can't, for some reason, let me know and I'll shuffle things around. Hell, call and let me know either way, honey. You're a lifesaver!"_ As Scott's voice faded, Spencer indulged in a soft sigh. Apparently his extra hour to wake up wasn't going to happen today. He made a mental note to call Scott and let him know he'd open fine.

Scott ran a mechanic shop downtown, much to their father's annoyance. They weren't a big business, only a total of five members on official staff, but he had others he could call in if the need fit, and "Summers Auto" had a reputation of gold. Piotr had been with Scott almost from the start, a good friend and mechanic. McKenna was their secretary and had been one of Jean's best friends. She was also good in a pinch for some quick shop work, though nothing too in depth. She was also working her way through school at the moment, aiming for a degree in accounting, and Spencer often helped her study. There were also Timothy and Rhonda, a married couple that did all of their cosmetic work. It was a great deal for them all. They got to do what they loved and Scott and Piotr were free to tinker around inside the vehicles to their hearts content. If there was anything Scott loved, it was working in a shop. He loved taking a car apart and putting it back together. His wife, Jean, had encouraged him in opening the shop when they'd just been dating.

Thinking of her brought a pang to Spencer's heart. Seven years had gone by and it could still hurt to think of Jean. A beautiful, kindhearted woman. He could still remember how excited she was about the up and coming birth of her and Scott's first child. The absolute joy on her face and the love he'd been able to feel from her when she'd rub a hand over her swelling stomach. They had been the perfect picture of a happy family until a horrible, horrible night. Spencer remembered the absolute terror that had filled him when Alex—his second oldest brother—had called to give him the news. Jean had gone to the store to pick up some milk before Scott got home from the shop. There'd been a robbery and Jean had been caught in the crossfire. Though they'd managed to save Rachel despite her being almost two months premature, they hadn't been able to save Jean. Scott went from husband and father-to-be to widower and father all in one night. That had been a hard, dark time for them all. But somehow, they'd pulled out of it. Spencer knew that Scott never would've made it out the other side of his grief if it hadn't been for the fact that Rachel needed him .She'd already lost her mother before ever getting to know her; he wasn't going to let her lose her father. Now Rachel was a bright, happy, seven year old little girl and the very light of her father's life.

A beep and the sound of another voice drew Spencer out of his thoughts and back to the present. This time it was Alex's voice and Spencer couldn't help the automatic smile that came out. _"I swear, pidge. You are NEVER home. Gad. I spend more time talking to your damn machine than I ever do you! Do I need to come out there and kick your ass? I mean, it's not like I can actually yell at you, seeing as how you haven't called me in like, three frigging weeks. So instead of grinning at the machine like a loon, why don't you pick up the damn phone and call your awesome brother? Dickweed."_ Ah, a message in true Alex style, with a made up insult and everything. Some things would never change. Amusement colored Spencer's face and he promised himself to actually call the man later. Vaguely he wondered where Alex was at. The man traveled all over for his work; he had a degree in geophysics and often went where the work demanded, running off of the reputation he'd built in that field to get work. He wasn't tied to any one place or company, something he enjoyed.

The next message was from Logan and it was the shortest of all. _"Lunch today. No arguments."_ That had Spencer rolling his eyes and laughing. Only Logan would be that short and crisp over a lunch invitation. No, not an invitation. A command. Logan was one of the only people who could get away with that. There wasn't much that Spencer wouldn't do for James Logan.

He'd been only fifteen the first time he'd met Logan. He'd been in a bad place in his life and Logan had just happened to be there. "The right place at the right time." As he put it. It was because of him that Spencer had finally gotten his life back on track, had finished out college and had made something for himself. He honestly believed that if he hadn't met Logan, he would've died somewhere in the streets of Vegas. He owed the gruff man everything. Logan had saved him and from that moment forward, the two had been friends.

The machine gave a final beep and Spencer took a drink of his coffee in the sudden quiet of the apartment. He knew Logan was ordering him over for lunch because he was worried. He'd been worried ever since Spencer had suddenly showed up on his brother's doorstep, asking if he could stay. Scott was worried too. As far as they'd all known, Spencer had been happily working at Las Vegas University as a professor in their mathematics department. He was in a relationship, owned a little bungalow of his own, and things had been going good. So when he showed up one day, announcing that he was leaving all that behind, of course his friends and family had been worried. He'd told them he no longer worked for LVU, but he wouldn't tell them why. He told them that he and Grayson were no longer together. Again, he wouldn't tell them why. And no amount of pressuring or questioning would get him to budge. He adamantly insisted that he didn't want to talk about it. The only explanation he'd given was that they had broken up and he wanted to be closer to family. Was there something wrong with that?

The truth was too hard to tell them. Spencer knew what their reactions would be if he told them what was really going on. There was no way he could talk about the months of physical abuse he'd suffered at Grayson's hands, or the verbal abuse he'd suffered long before that. He couldn't tell them that he'd finally decided to leave the man. Nor could he tell them how, once he'd settled in here, he'd checked his bank accounts and discovered that Grayson had emptied them completely. Not just his personal one, but the one that paid for his mother's medical care as well. Or how, when he tried to get a job at the university, it had taken some smooth talking to even be allowed to teach night classes because Grayson had made some calls and now no one was willing to employ him at regular classes. That left him teaching night classes for students who were working to get their GED.

That was why Spencer lived in this shabby, rundown little apartment. Between his own bills and the bills for his mother's care, this place was the only place he could afford. Hell, he had to work four nights a week at the University, two nights a week at a club downtown as a bartender, and days at the shop just to manage to make his money stretch this far! Even then, it was pushing it. He'd had to hire out as a tutor once or twice just to be able to help stretch things.

_Damn him_ he thought to himself. _Damn him for doing this. And damn me for being dumb enough to let it happen._

There was no point in wallowing in it. What good would that get him? Nothing. All he could do was endure and survive. Pride lifted his chin a little. Downing the last bit of his coffee, he washed it out in the sink before setting it in the strainer to dry. Then he grabbed his jacket and keys and hurried out of the apartment. It was time to go open up shop.

* * *

Almost from the instant he unlocked the shop, Spencer was working. He came in to the phone already ringing and spent the next twenty minutes not only opening shop, but battling with the an insurance company on the phone. They were trying to insist that they weren't going to pay for the work they'd done recently and Spencer wasn't going to let them get away with it. By the time the shop was opened and McKenna came in, Spencer was already suffering a low grade headache. The peppy little woman took one look at him and shook her head. "I'll get the coffee going." She offered. Spencer gave her a crooked little grin. "Bless you, Kenna."

"Get on with you." She waved a hand at him as she strode over to their little kitchenette, hands already moving to take her bright magenta hair and pull it back into a quick ponytail. "So where's the Big Boss at today?"

Spencer sifted through the notes of yesterday's phone messages on the desk, looking for anything important. "Rachel caught the bug that's been going around school so he's at home with her. I checked in on my way over and he said she's a little miserable but she's doing okay."

"Aw, the poor girl. Maybe I'll make some soup and take it on over later for her."

The offer had them both chuckling. It was well known that Scott was _not_ a cook. Spencer had fallen into the habit since he'd moved here of going over and preparing meals that he then stuck in the freezer for them, joking with Scott that he wasn't going to allow his niece to grow up on microwavable food and take out. "You know he won't turn it down."

There was the sound of running water as she filled the pot. Her voice rose to be heard over it. "He'd be a fool. My chicken soup does wonders for a cold. My grandma taught me to make it and she swore it would help kick a cold in no time flat." The water stopped running and he heard as she finished preparing the coffee. Once it was going, she joined him at the desk. McKenna was a pretty woman, made even more so by her naturally bright magenta hair. Most people thought it was a dye job and she was frequently asked where she got it done at. She always just smiled and told them it was her little secret. It was safer than telling them it was natural. Anyone who had something different, something _naturally_ different, was giving themselves away as a mutant and that was a quick way to cause trouble for yourself. McKenna _was _a mutant, a low level telepath, and that wasn't something she let just anyone know. She'd learned just as others had learned that it was something better kept a secret.

The general public had no idea that everyone who worked at Summers Auto was a mutant. There were easy ways to hide it. Spencer didn't have to worry too hard. He simply put in colored contacts, turning his irises from their natural purple, blue and pink to a muted brown that made him look just as ordinary as anyone else. No one would guess that he was an empath with control of electrical energy. Scott's specialized sunglasses hid his eyes and controlled his powers so that no one knew about his either. They all just thought he had a thing for the punkish rose colored sunglasses. Piotr looked just as normal as the next guy until he decided to turn to his metal form.

A ringing phone cut into Spencer's thoughts and McKenna hurried to answer the phone. And so started Spencer's busy morning. Mr. Jameson was the one on the phone, insisting that he wanted his car by the end of the day, not tomorrow. It was vital, he said, as he had to leave town tomorrow morning and he wasn't going to be back for a week and he wasn't going to pay to have them hold it for a week. The Elmer brothers also came in with their truck, begging to have him look at it and fix it. This was their work truck—the two worked down at the Cherry Restaurant—and if they didn't have it, they wouldn't be able to make any of their afternoon deliveries. Spencer had to have McKenna call in one of their friends, Abigail, to help. Luckily she was free and she came in and started work on Mr. Jameson's car, allowing Spencer the freedom to work on the Elmer brothers' car.

Spencer was lying on a creeper under the truck, putting the finishing touches on his work, when he heard footsteps coming toward him. Figuring it was one of the brothers, he called out "You've got impeccable timing. I'm just finishing up. Another minute or so and she'll be ready to go."

"Sounds good to me."

That low, familiar grumble had Spencer smiling. He finished up the last of what he was doing before moving his hands and sliding out from underneath the car. He grinned up at the man that stood there, amusement lighting up bright blue eyes. An unlit cigar was clamped at the corner of Logan's mouth and he was grinning around it. "Hey, brat."

"Hey, Logan." Sitting up, Spencer reached out for a rag beside him, using it to wipe at the grease on his hands. He held a hand out and the man took it, pulling him up to his feet.

The older man looked him over from head to toe and his grin grew teasing. "Still gets me every damn time. The last thing anyone would suspect when they look at you is that you're a grease monkey."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." It was something Spencer had heard countless times. People generally looked at him in his slacks, button-ups and sweaters or vest and they pegged him for what he was—a nerd. He looked every inch the college professor, albeit a young one. Countless people had been surprised in his life to see him don his coveralls and climb right into the hood of a car. But this had always been something that had been Scott's passion and he'd made sure to teach both of his brothers. Spencer took to it more than Alex, though Alex knew what he was doing. Spencer found, oddly enough in his opinion, that he enjoyed the work. It was a good way to de-stress sometimes. "Tell me something I haven't heard, old man." He grinned and dodged the swat Logan aimed his way.

Moving to the other side of the shop, Spencer poked his head around the car to look to where Abigail was bent under the hood of a flashy little 73 corvette. She was another unlikely mechanic. The perky little twenty three year old blond was built like a supermodel, could dress like a diva, and she loved working on cars as much as Scott did. "Hey, Abigail. How's it going over here?"

"Almost done. You see how this man treated this car, boss man? There's no excuse for neglect like this!" She sounded both disgusted and infuriated by it.

Spencer chuckled. Scott had felt the same way when he'd looked under the hood. "Need any help?"

"Nope." She shifted, pulling back out just enough to turn her head and smile at him. "I thought I heard Logan. You going out to lunch? Cause we got things covered here."

"Yeah. I just need to drop off the keys with McKenna for the truck."

"Bring me back a sub, would ya? I'm about dying for a meatball sub. And a Coke!"

After making promises to do just that, Spencer made his way to the office and dropped off the keys with McKenna, letting her know she could call the Elmer brothers and they could get their truck. He outlined his work for her so she could build an invoice. Then he snuck back to the bathroom and washed up quickly, stripping out of his coveralls. Fifteen minutes after Logan arrived, the two were settling in at the sub shop down the road. Spencer was saved from having to mentally adjust his budget to be able to eat here by Logan simply paying for their food without even asking Spencer. The young man shook his head; there was no point in protesting. Logan also doubled Spencer's order from a six inch to a full foot long sub. At the look Spencer gave him, the man simply said "You're too scrawny. Eat it."

Spencer knew Logan hadn't brought him out just to eat. The man had to have something on his mind. If he'd just shown up and told Spencer to come eat, that would've been one thing. But he'd made sure to call in advance and tell him they were going, which told Spencer that his friend had something to say. He knew better than to try and pull it out of him. Logan would speak when he was good and ready. He was a man of few words. But that meant that when he did have something to say, it was generally a smart idea to listen to him.

While he waited for Logan to speak up, Spencer ate his lunch in the easy silence that existed between them. He watched Logan through his bangs, taking in the man he'd seen thousands of times before. Logan was shorter than he was and most definitely stockier. Whereas Spencer was rail thin, Logan was muscular and well built. Add that in with the typical blue jeans and t-shirts, or occasionally his flannel, and people assumed he was in some kind of construction job. True, Logan liked to work with his hands and he was a damn good man to have around for house repairs, but his job was just as surprising to people as Spencer's mechanic abilities were. Logan was judo instructor. He had told Spencer once that he liked the discipline of martial arts. It helped him to find a kind of inner peace that allowed him to control the animal within. The feral nature the man possessed came with benefits, such as enhanced senses, but it also had the downside of him having the potential to go feral, with the animal inside taking control. That, combined with the three claws that could extend from either hand with a deadly snitck, and he could be a very, very dangerous man. Yet he was one of the kindest Spencer had ever known.

Spencer was about halfway through his meal when Logan finally spoke up. "I want you move in with me."

Shock had Spencer almost choking on his food. He fought to force the bite down his throat and had to take a drink just to wash it down the rest of the way. That hadn't been what he was expecting at all. He set his sub down and looked at Logan with surprise. "Pardon?"

"You heard me, brat. I want you to move in." The feral man polished off the last of his sub and sat back in the booth, looking right at Spencer's face. His eyes were serious.

Honestly, Spencer had no idea what to say for a minute. Where had this come from? "Logan, I have my own apartment. I don't even live far away. Why would I need to move in?"

The serious look in Logan's eyes grew and his gaze seemed to pin Spencer in place, making the young man feel like his friend was staring straight inside of him. "Cause you're wasting away on me here, kid. Ya think I can't see it? Shit. You've lost more weight, you've got bags under your eyes and ya look like a strong wind would blow your ass over. Now, maybe ya don't wanna tell me what's going on. Whatever. But I aint watching you slowly kill yourself."

He was speechless. _And you thought you were doing a good job of covering things up._ Shit. What was he going to do with this? What kind of answer could he give? He couldn't move in with Logan! The man would wonder when he saw that Spencer was working three jobs plus odd jobs here and there. _Then again, staying with him would mean you wouldn't have rent, electricity, or telephone to worry about. At least, not fully. He owns the duplex he's in and you'd only have to halve the electricity and phone. And some groceries. Really, it's not a bad deal, financially. _Okay, so maybe the money part of it would work. But what about the rest? How long would it take before Logan discovered his secrets? What would happen if Grayson came looking for him? He couldn't put Logan at risk that way! If Grayson did come after him and found out that he was living with another man, his fury would be terrible. _But living there, you wouldn't have your name on a lease and he couldn't track your residence that way. And you already use a PO Box for mail so he cannot find a physical address for you._ Not that he really thought that any of that would work. Grayson was powerful enough and had enough money that he could find Spencer if he put his mind to it. Still, no need to make it easy for him.

How on earth was he even thinking about this? It was a ridiculous idea anyways! He ignored the little voice in his mind that was screaming just how safe he'd be with Logan and how maybe, just maybe he'd be able to sleep a little better, knowing the man was down the hall. He pushed that voice aside and tried to meet Logan's gaze levelly. "I appreciate the offer, Logan. Truly I do. But I'm fine. I have my own place and I've just gotten settled in there, really…"

"Maybe I wasn't clear." Logan interrupted him. He folded his arms over his chest and lifted one eyebrow. "Either ya move in with me, or I'm coming to move in with you. Those are your options, brat. And ya know I don't make idle threats. So, take your pick. Now. What's it gonna be?"

_Son of a bitch._ The mental curse almost screamed through Spencer's head. He didn't even need his empathy to tell him how serious Logan was. The man would do as he said. If Spencer didn't agree to move in with him, then he'd move in with Spencer. It didn't matter that he'd never been to Spencer's apartment. He'd find it before the day was out and Spencer knew he'd be there when he got home. When it was put like this, what choice did he really have? He couldn't have Logan moving in there. Especially not after he'd worked so hard to make sure no one knew what kind of apartment he lived in! Spencer's rarely seen temper made the colors in his eyes snap visibly through his contacts. "You couldn't have proposed this _before_ I got moved in?"

"I thought you'd get better. You're not. So I'm tired of waiting." To Logan, it was as simple as that. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled something out and set it on the table. A key. It was a key. "After work, grab what ya need and come over. I got the second bedroom prepped for ya. I've got a night class tonight so I won't be there. Get as much of your shit over as you can. We'll get the rest tomorrow or something. I'll take your car and leave ya my truck."

Spencer stared at the key for a long moment before he finally made his hand lift and reach for it. In taking it, he suddenly felt the headache he'd had earlier come racing back. What the hell had he just agreed to?


	31. AU2

_Second random old AU I found..._

* * *

Through the windshield of his car, Spencer Reid stared up at the house in front of him and tried to gather the strength to get out and walk inside. The fact that he had to work this hard to do it scared him. No, it terrified him. When had he let life get to this point? When had he let things get this far? His long fingers curled around the steering wheel. When had life become so damn _hard_? He was twenty five years old, still in the very prime of his life. Yet he felt more like he was fifty two. _It shouldn't be like this. Things shouldn't be this way_ his mind told him. This wasn't what he had planned. Not only for himself, but for his son.

Thinking of his son was enough to draw Spencer's eyes up to the house once more. His little Damien. The boy would be waiting anxiously for him to get home. He would be waiting for Daddy to come and take him home so he could go to bed. Spencer could picture where he'd be right now. Most likely with Grandma Elise and Grandpa Richard in their library, curled up on the couch while Richard read a story to him. If there was anyone who loved Damien anywhere as much as Spencer did, it would be those two people in that house. They loved the little boy with all their hearts. Ever since their daughter Betsy, Damien's mother and Spencer's wife, had passed away when Damien was only a week old, the little boy was all they had left of their daughter. They had volunteered right away to help Spencer out with his son; to take him during the day while Spencer worked. It was an arrangement that had suited them all perfectly for the past four years.

Movement at the window drew Spencer's eyes and told him that he'd been spotted. He couldn't sit around in the car any longer. It was time to get up and go in there and put his mask on once more. Pretend that everything was fine and that he was all right when noting was further from the truth. One shaky hand ran through shaggy brown hair, pushing it back from his face, and he took a deep breath. Then he unhooked his seatbelt and unfolded his long, lanky body from the car. He had to pull on his pants slightly to drag them back up his hips. Already naturally slender, his body had thinned considerably over the past few months. He was going to have to add another notch to his belt just to hold his pants up. He gave that no more thought as he started his way up the walk. With each step he took, his body ached in various places, reminding him of where he'd been and what he'd just been through. There was no place for that here, though. He refused to bring that darkness home to his son. By the time he reached the front door, he'd pushed the pain back as far as he could and had banished as many of his darker thoughts as he could manage.

He opened the door and stepped inside, as comfortable as he was in his own home. Elsie and Richard both treated Spencer like a son and he had never felt uncomfortable in their home. Though it had taken a while, they'd broken him of the habit of knocking when he came to pick Damien up. Now he walked in just as casually as he would at home. Usually, the three were cloistered off somewhere. But today, Richard was waiting for him, leaning against the wall in the living room. When Spencer got in there, he was surprised to see the older man there. Though in his sixties, Richard Acker looked much younger than his age. His brown hair was barely grayed at all. The lines in his face showed a man who had laughed and smiled a lot in his life. He was built solid, his body showing the physique of a man who had spent years working construction to provide for his family. Betsy may have gained her mother's short, slim figure, but her green eyes and chestnut hair had come from her father. Those green eyes were staring at Spencer now with a serious look. Instant worry hit Spencer like a fist to the gut. He froze, only one thing on his mind. "Damie?"

"Down the hall with Elsie." Richard quickly reassured him, knowing where Spencer's mind had jumped. He, unlike most of the world, knew Spencer's secret. He knew about Spencer's mutation, one of which was empathy, and he knew that Spencer would be able to feel the emotional climate of the room. No sooner had he reassured the young man than he worried him once more by adding "I asked her to keep him there. I want to talk to you for a minute. Come in my office with me."

Well, that really didn't sound good. Spencer had to resist wincing at the idea of staying a little longer. All he wanted to do was get his son and get them home. Then, once Damien was in bed, he wanted to soak away his aches and pains in a warm bath. But he followed Richard back to the man's office and even managed to take a seat without a wince when Richard gestured him to it. "What's going on, Richard?"

"We need to have a serious talk, Spencer." Pouring himself a glass of scotch, Richard settled down behind his desk, those sharp eyes once more on Spencer. "You know me. I'm not the type to mince words or hold my tongue when I feel something needs saying. So I'm just gonna come right out with this and be blunt. You need to get the hell out of the shit you're in before you get yourself killed, son."

Spencer sat back in his chair, stunned. That was the very last thing he'd expected to hear.

Richard wasn't done yet. He curled his hands around his drink and watched Spencer's face. "Elsie and I have been watching for a while. You think we can't see what's going on? You think we don't see the way you move, the way you always seem to be hurting somewhere? A person, even one as graceless as you, only falls so many times. We're not buying your excuses anymore. That Grayson bastard, he's beating on you."

What could he say? What on earth could he say? Spencer stared at the man across from him and felt the lies dry up in his throat. He couldn't force himself to say them. He couldn't deny the truth of what Richard had said. Too raw from his evening, his defenses against a direct confrontation like this were nothing. In his lap, his hands trembled. He curled them in, gripping at his pant legs. His mouth opened as if to say something before closing it again.

The look on the older man's face softened a little bit. "Spencer, we want to help you. When you started dating again, we were both so happy for you. Elsie was so happy she cried a little. We felt two years was long enough to mourn Betsy and the thought of you finding someone to love, man or woman, made us happy. You and Damien deserve to have a whole, happy family. But what you have with Grayson, it's not happy. It's not healthy. And we can't stand back and watch you be hurt. Not anymore. Let us help you."

"You can't." There were the first two words he'd been able to say since Richard dropped this bomb on him and they were so very true. Licking dry lips, he made himself continue. There was no point in lying about this, not when it was obvious Richard knew far more than he'd ever let on. So Spencer was completely honest with him. "He won't just let me leave. I've tried that. And you know I can't go to the police. All he'd have to do is tell them I'm a mutant and they'd turn a blind eye to everything."

"I know. That's why Elise and I are gonna get you and Damien outta town."

"What?"

Reaching down into a desk drawer, Richard pulled out something and set it on the desk between them. Keys. It was a pair of keys. "Those are to that used station wagon we bought last month. It's in the garage right now with a full tank of gas. We've packed up Damien's things here and the few things of yours we have and we loaded them in the back. There's an envelope in the dash with money in it that should get you far if you're careful." With each word, Spencer's shock grew and grew. "We know what this means for us and we know we won't be able to just come and see you two anymore, but we also know that if you stay here, he's going to end up killing you. Neither one of us wants to lose someone else we care for. You don't deserve this life and Damien doesn't deserve to watch his father live this way. Betsy wouldn't have wanted this for either of you."

He had no idea what to say. "I...I don't…" A lump built in his throat. Here, right in front of him, was the one thing he'd been trying to figure out how to get for months now. Freedom. Freedom from Grayson and from the pain he brought. Freedom for him and Damien to get the hell out of this life and start over. But where would he go? He couldn't go to his brothers. Not only would they be the first places Grayson would look, Alex lived from here to there with his work and Scott had his seven year old daughter Rachel and his ex-wife Jean that Spencer couldn't bear the idea of putting at risk. So where could he go?

One person, one name, came to mind. One place he knew he could run to and be safe. Logan. He'd been only fifteen the first time he'd met Logan. He'd been in a bad place in his life and Logan had just happened to be there. "The right place at the right time" as he put it. It was because of him that Spencer had finally gotten his life back on track, had finished out college and had made something for himself. He honestly believed that if he hadn't met Logan, he would've died somewhere in the streets of Vegas. He owed the gruff man everything. Logan had saved him and from that moment forward, the two had been friends. Now…now he was going to have to go beg the man to help save him again.

With that thought came the realization that he was going to do this. He was really going to do this. A tremor ran down him. He was going to leave. With a hand that was steadier than it felt, he reached out and took the keys. Then he looked once more at his father-in-law. "I don't know how to thank you for this."

"Be safe. Live. Be happy again. That's thanks enough." Rising, Richard drained his glass before coming around the desk and holding a hand out to Spencer. "Come on, let's get you going. The sooner you're on the road, the better."

When they got out of the office, Richard called down the hall to his wife. It only took a moment before Elsie and Damien appeared out of the door at the end of the hall. Damien took one look and then the four year old little boy was crying out "Daddy!" and racing down the hall. Spencer didn't hesitate to sink down to one knee and open his arms wide to catch his little boy close. The feel of Damien's arms around his neck and the absolute love that poured off the boy made any of the pain that came from the hug worth it. "Hey there, buddy." He murmured against Damien's hair. The two pulled apart a little and Spencer lifted a hand to smooth back brown hair from a face that was so like his own, even down to the identical purple, blue and pink irises. "Were you good for Grandma and Grandpa today?"

"Uh huh! Granma and me made bread and it was really good." The little boy's excitement lit up his eyes so that the colors in them sparked. Spencer couldn't help but smile at him. "That sounds like a lot of fun. You didn't eat it all already, did you, my little piglet?"

Giggling, Damien nodded his head before oinking at him. Above them, Elise let out a warm laugh. "You little fibber. Don't you listen to him, Spencer. I've got some in the kitchen for you if you'd like."

Spencer kept Damien close while rising to his feet, wincing just a little at the pain on his ribs. He almost couldn't manage to get upright. He had to slip Damien to one side, away from the side that hurt. When he was on his feet, he smiled at Elsie. "That sounds wonderful. Do you, ah, do you have a way to wrap it up? Damien and I have to get going. We've got a long drive ahead of us." He met her eyes with those last words and he saw as well as felt the joy and sadness that leapt into her. Her eyes shone for a second before she moved forward and pulled him in for a hug. "Oh, honey. I'm so glad. I'm so, so glad."

Things seemed to move so quickly after that. All of them knew that time was of the essence and they didn't want to waste a moment of it. They wanted to put as much distance between them and Grayson as possible before he found out. With his son in his arms and the love and support of his extended family here, Spencer fought back tears and did something he had taken to doing after Betsy's death. He sent a small prayer up to her. _I'm doing everything I can to make this right, Betsy. I'm going to fix things for me and our son, I promise. I'll do everything I can._

* * *

Leaving had been one of the hardest and most terrifying moments Spencer had ever felt. To say goodbye to two wonderful people had broken his heart. Then to load into the car and actually drive away, not knowing when he'd see them again, broke it a little more. Guilt sat in there as well; this wouldn't be happening if he hadn't been stupid enough to get himself into this position. But most of all, he felt terror. Terror that they were going to be caught. Terror that Grayson was going to come driving up out of nowhere and find him running. Terror that they weren't going to make it. He was grateful when Damien fell asleep in his seat. It kept him from having to fake a good mood for the child.

It took three days to drive to their destination. Three terrifying days spent watching every car that came up on them. Two nights spent in hotels where he didn't have to show an ID, a dresser pushed in front of the door and his body curled protectively around his son's in those stupid motel beds. Three days spent being sure that each moment was going to finally bring him the horror he was sure was coming. By the time they arrived in the town of Cartson, Connecticut, a coastal town that was about an hour's drive from Hartford, Spencer felt like he was ready to snap with the tension in him. The town wasn't small, but it wasn't a big city either. Nowhere near as big as cities Spencer had lived in. Yet it was big enough he felt he could safely lose himself here.

He made the turn that brought him to the street Logan's house sat on and for the first time since he'd started this trip, Spencer felt some of his tension start to drain. He had made it. They'd made it. A glance in his mirror showed him that Damien was just starting to drift off in his seat. _Of course. He's been talking my ear off for the past two hours and making as much noise as he possibly can, just so he can start to fall asleep when we're actually arriving at our destination. Naturally._ He couldn't stop himself from chuckling a little. "Hey, Damie, wake up buddy. Guess what?"

From the backseat he heard a low grumble in answer. Smirking, Spencer slowed the car and pulled right up alongside the curb in front of Logan's house. He'd only been to this particular house a handful of times; generally Logan came and saw them. Still, he'd easily remembered where to go once he got into town. Benefit of an eidetic memory, he supposed. He'd seen the directions once before and that was all he needed.

Turning the car off, he looked over his shoulder. "We're here, buddy. You ready to go see Logan?"

That definitely perked the boy up. Damien's eyes opened and were already lighting up with a sleepy excitement. By the time Spencer was out of the car and had the back door open, Damien was mostly awake, though he still looked tired at the edges. Spencer unhooked him from his seat and helped him out, not quite able to lift him from that angle. He took the boy's hand before reaching in to grab the duffle from the backseat that held their essentials for the night. He slung that over his shoulder and shut the door.

They hadn't even made it from the sideway to the walkway up to the house when the front door opened and Logan stepped out. Because they were on the lawn, Spencer had no problems letting go of Damien's hand and letting the boy race up the yard with a cry of "Grumpy!"

Hearing that nickname brought a real smile to Spencer's lips. He remembered when Logan had first earned that nickname. Back when Damien had first been learning what to call people, Alex has jokingly told Damien that Logan was like a Grandpa. When the little boy had tried to say it, he'd mangled the word and Scott had started to laugh, telling Logan that it sounded like the boy was calling him Grumpy. From the rest of the visit, whenever Damien was around, Scott called Logan Grumpy. The name had stuck. And though Logan still grumbled about it on occasion, Spencer knew he didn't mind it. Not in the least bit. Just like everyone else that Damien came across, Logan loved the little guy.

The gruff feral grinned as he bent and caught Damien, tossing him up in the air and making him shriek with laughter before catching him and settling him on his hip, saying something to him that made him laugh all over again. Spencer made his way up the walk toward them. When he reached the front porch, Logan's smile turned toward him. Spencer could feel the worry underneath it. "Well look what the cat dragged in."

"Hey, Logan." Spencer went right to him and let the man fold him into a one armed hug. The tension in him eased just a little bit more with that embrace. He was here. He was safe.

Logan caught his chin when they pulled back, holding Spencer's face still for inspection. He made a low growling sound and let go of him. "Isn't it someone's bedtime?"

"It is." He looked at where Damien was already curling against Logan's shoulder sleepily.

"Then let's get him tucked in. Then I think you and I gotta talk, bub."

Spencer sighed and followed him into the house. "You have no idea."


	32. Fire and Ice

_I don't know how to start this kind of story. Never before have I tried to tell someone the story of my life, aside from Spencer. But after everything that I've lived through, everything that my partner and I have gone through and survived, we felt it was right to put it down on paper. So we're sitting here together, compiling our memories and looking back at events that changed our very lives._

_Maybe our story should die with us. Maybe it should never be told. There are some out there who would kill to know the things that we know. Or to silence us before the truth can be told. The secrets we know and the atrocities we've witnessed could bring many people in high positions crashing down. Is that right? Do we have the right to destroy lives? Some of the lives that would be harmed by this did nothing to deserve it. Some were simply sheltered from the truth. Others would deserve the fate that would be meted out to them. There's no way of taking down one without also taking down the other. Is that fair? No. But sadly it's the way things are._

_I'm not innocent in all of this, either. The things I've seen, the things I've done-there will never be any excuse for me. If the others hang, I should rightfully hang with them. By exposing their secrets I risk exposing mine as well. For those who knew me, please know as you read this that I always have and always will love you. You were a family for me, one that I had never thought I would have. No matter what you read, never doubt that, please. Never doubt the place you have in my heart. I am so sorry that I brought this all to you. If I could change it, I would. Yet, if I did, I would never have met any of you. I shudder to think where I would be then._

_It was Spencer who suggested that we write this down together and lock it away somewhere safe so that, in the event of our death, the people we knew at one time can finally know the truth. They deserve that truth. Or, maybe when we're safe and hidden somewhere, we'll find a way to send this so that those we love won't have to spend their lives worrying for us. Which would be better? Which is safer for them?_

_As Spencer has so politely just pointed out to me, this is probably making no sense whatsoever. I've yet to even make any kind of introduction. You might be wondering who the hell this is and who you're reading about, if this is in the hands of someone who doesn't know us. If our friends choose to take this to the authorities._

_Well, I've used plenty of names in my life, but the one that always felt the truest was the one I was the most know for, the one that was given to me when I was just ten years old—Remy LeBeau. _

_Yeah. Even if you aren't the friends we wanted to send this to, you've still probably heard that name. I know a lot of people heard about me and about my partner. The thing we're probably the most known for was the prolific plane crash over the Pacific Ocean as we were 'escaping custody'._

_Well, obviously, as this story will show, we didn't die. Far from it. But that's jumping ahead and Spencer's a bit of a stickler for getting things in order. Luckily, he's not here looming over my shoulder anymore. I'm free to sit here and smoke and jot all this down however it pleases me. I'm just not really sure where to start things at. What would be the best place for the beginning? For, rightfully, this all started when I was born. But maybe that part of the tale should come later. I didn't really find out about the circumstances of my birth until I got older. _

_Maybe I should start later, in my teenage years? My life was changing on me in so many ways at that time. I'd been adopted by then by Jean-Luc LeBeau and was happily a part of his a family. I had Belle, the woman I was supposedly going to marry._

_Or maybe I should start when I was seventeen and I took a summer trip with my brother Henri to Las Vegas and almost ran over this scrawny little kid. A kid who would end up becoming the single most important person in my life._

_I think I know where to start. It's years down the road, long after I left New Orleans, after Sinister, after I joined the X-Men. All of those things, they would take so much time to tell, and I'm already going to be hashing out so many memories. But this—this is the place where our story truly begins. With Spencer. He's where my story truly begins and he'll be there when my story finally ends. Just the way it should be._

_I'll start on the night that I finally decided that enough was enough. When I threw caution to the wind and reached out to grab something that I'd always wanted and never been able to attain_

_Love._

* * *

The night that things finally changed between Remy and Spencer started out like almost any other night for them. For the first time in months, Spencer had time off from work, and just like he always did he came out to spend it with Remy. The two men had been the best of friends since Spencer was fourteen years old. There was no one in his life that was more important to him than Remy. And for Remy, there was no one more important than Spencer either. No matter what happened, or who came and went in his life, he knew that the young genius would always be there.

They were hanging out together in the game room of Xavier's School with a few other members of the household. It was evening and more than a few of them were enjoying a drink. Mostly, though, the group was playing a ridiculous truth or dare board game that Betsy had produced from somewhere.

It was a sort of rare thing for everyone to be gathered together like this and still getting along. There was a whole group of them seated around the card table. Remy was sprawled out in his chair, half leaning against Spencer's chair, his arm around his friend's back. Beside Remy sat Logan, followed by Kitty, Betsy, Ororo, Jean, Bobby, Kurt and Rogue. Remy had practically forced Logan to join them. The feral hadn't wanted anything to do with a "stupid truth or dare game. I aint a kid, Gumbo!" He was here, though, and Remy didn't bother hiding his smirk when he saw his friend gradually relaxing. Logan might protest, but he was kicked back in his chair with a cigar between his lips and a small smile touching his lips.

Remy was the one who'd just rolled the dice and when he landed on a dare slot, Bobby reached out to grab a 'dare' card. The game so far had been pretty PG. Remy contemplated the deck and wondered how easy it would be to make and slip in a bit more _fun_ cards. Still, they were amused enough by some of the silly things they'd had to do.

A grin spread over Bobby's lips as he looked down at his card. "Oh man." He let out a low chuckle "It says to 'Serenade the person to your right with a song that you think describes the relationship (friend, lover, sibling) with them." He looked up and saw who was on Remy's right. The grin that curved his lips matched the grins that Logan and Ororo were suddenly wearing—the only two people in the room who knew just how Remy really felt about his 'best friend'. As for Spencer, he was blushing slightly in that way of his that always made Remy ant to kiss him senseless.

If Bobby had thought he'd fluster Remy with this dare, he clearly wasn't thinking. Remy never backed down from a dare.

Amusement curved Remy's lips. He stood up from his chair and moved to stand behind Spencer. Then he bent and grabbed the chair legs, pulling Spencer, chair and all, away from the table. He snickered when he darted back around and Spencer was glaring at him. "All right dere, cher?" Remy teased, winking at him over the top of his sunglasses.

Spencer pretended to deepen his glare, though he couldn't hide the spark of humor in his eyes. "You're insane."

"Insane, hm?"

A fuck-it-all look came into Remy's eyes then. His grin spread, slow and lethal. When Bobby threw a remote at him to use as a pretend mic, Remy deftly caught it out of the air and pulled it to his mouth, starting his song as he took a step back from Spencer. "Friday night I crashed y'r party. Saturday I said I'm sorry. Sunday came and trashed me out again."

Logan was the first to recognize the lyrics and he let out a low, growling laugh. It didn't make Remy miss a beat. He threw a wink to the older man and then put his all into the lyrics.

"I was only having fun, wasn't hurting anyone, and we all enjoyed de weekend fo' a change. I've been stranded in de combat zone. I walked through Bedford Stuy alone. Even rode m' motorcycle in de rain. And y' told me not to drive but I made it home alive. So y' said dat only proves da I'm insane_._"

Laughter lit up Spencer's dark brown eyes, making them look like melted chocolate. Remy threw himself into the moment, stepping up and hooking the collar of Spencer's shirt to pull him forward.

"Y' may be right. I may be crazy. But it just may be a lunatic y'r lookin' fo'. Turn out de light, don't try to save me. Y' may be wrong fo' all I know but y' may be right."

He stepped back, more of a provocative roll than a walk. Something came into his eyes, something that Spencer had never seen there before.

"Remember how I found y' dere, alone in y'r electric chair. I told y' dirty jokes until y' smiled. Y' were lonely fo' a man, I said take me as I am, cause y' might enjoy some madness fo' a while. Now t'ink of all de years y've tried to find someone to satisfy y'. I might be as crazy as y' say…"

To the surprise of everyone, Remy stepped forward and wrapped one arm around Spencer's neck, plopping himself down right into Spencer's lap. He grinned at him as he continued to sing.

"If I'm crazy den it's true, dat it's all because of y', and y' wouldn't want me any other way. Y' may be right, I may be crazy. But it just may be a lunatic y'r lookin' fo'. It's too late to fight. It's too late to change me. Y' may be wrong fo' all I know but y' may be right."

When the song was done, Remy did the one thing that he had never dared to do before. One thing that he had never had the courage to do. Looking down into Spencer's eyes, he saw emotions in those depths that hinted at feelings much like his own. So Remy threw caution to the wind, grabbed a handful of Spencer's hair, and kissed him for all he was worth.

Spencer surprised him by not pulling away, by not even startling. No, his warm hands came up, wrapping around Remy's neck and pulling him down into the kiss. The two ignored the cat calls sounding around them and they got lost in their very first _real_ kiss. When they finally pulled back, both of them were smiling. Spencer shifted one hand, lightly tapping Remy's chin with his fist. "Took you long enough." He said in a voice that was slightly huskier than normal. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever make a move."

His words startled a surprised laugh out of Remy. The Cajun couldn't quite help his grin. "Yeah, well, y'know me. I do t'ings on m' own schedule."

With another smile, the two brought their lips back together, sharing another heart-wrenching kiss.

* * *

_That was how it started for Spencer and I. That was the beginning of our relationship; the one defining moment that put us on the road to where we are today. It still makes me smile when I picture Spencer's face as he told me "Took you long enough." Leave it to that man to surprise me with something like that. He plays clueless, that one, but he sees more than people give him credit for. He may not be the most socially apt person but when it counts, he sees things._

_Before that day I had never even suspected that he'd felt the same way about me that I did about him. But, fear of him not feeling the same hadn't been what had kept me back from him. No, it had been the other things in my life. The things that I had tried so hard to bury in my past. There was a part of my life that, no matter how far I traveled or how much good I did, I felt would always taint me. It'd kept me back from Spencer for quite a few years until that night when I stopped fighting and gave in to it. Starting that relationship with Spencer was like a small ray of light in the darkness that had become my soul. I began to hope again._

_Hope is a beautiful thing. It can come as a blazing light in your life, or as the smallest little spark. That kiss created a spark in my heart. As time went on, the spark grew and grew until it was a wildfire that consumed everything inside me._

_The person it left behind was one I finally felt I might be able to be proud of._


	33. Some Kind of Stranger

_Reply to a tumblr prompt I got:_

* * *

Time wasn't going slower. It just felt that way. It always felt that way when a person was waiting around to do something they didn't really want to do. This was definitely one of those moments for the profiler. He had something important to do that he wasn't really looking forward to. Something that he couldn't do until his coworker got here. Only, instead of arriving at his usual time of eight o'clock—on the dot—one Dr. Spencer Reid was nowhere in sight.

It wouldn't be the first time that Spencer had missed the bus and had to catch the next one. Since the next one came almost an hour later, it made him about an hour late for work. Though it didn't often happen, it _had_ happened enough that the team was used to it and they didn't stress it if Spencer came in an hour late for work.

Apparently today was going to be one of those days. _Of course_. The one day that Derek really wanted to be able to talk to his friend and it was the day that Spencer had to be late for work.

Derek wasn't looking forward to the conversation he knew he had to have with his friends. There was something going on with Spencer and it was starting to get to the point that Derek was worrying about it. He hadn't been sure at first—a lot of what he was seeing was too easily brushed off as something else. But the argument the two of them had gotten into last night had forced Derek to stop and think about a few things and he hadn't really liked the image that had been painted in his mind.

Their argument had started out simple. The team had wanted to get together this weekend at Derek's place for a barbeque and some time to just rest and relax, and Derek had been the one to extend the invitation to Spencer. Granted, it was sort of last minute, but he hadn't really expected Spencer to tell him that he already had plans and couldn't make it. There'd been something about the way Spencer had looked away from him, the slightly shifty body language, that had left Derek curious and a bit worried. Unfortunately, Spencer had taken his worry as an insult. "Is it really so hard to think that I might actually have plans, Morgan?"

"You can read your books anytime, kid." Derek had tried to tease him, hoping it would help Spencer relax, but it had only made things worse.

The memory of the things they'd shouted at one another after that were enough to make Derek cringe now as he stared down at the paperwork he'd been pretending to do. Neither man had held back. Later on, when Derek had calmed down, that fact alone was enough to make him start worrying. Spencer wasn't the type to snap at anyone. He was the type to keep quiet about something and bottle it inside, not shout it out in the parking lot of the Bureau. But shout it he had. Loud and furious. The things that he'd said...

Derek had thought about the things Spencer had accused him of for the rest of the night. "Why do you want me there so badly?" Spencer had demanded, his eyes sharp and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "It's not like you guys ever want to actually talk to me!" And then, later, "So, what? None of you can ever come out when I ask you, when it's _important_, but you expect me to drop all my plans just because all of you deign to grace me with your presence?"

That wasn't really how Spencer felt, was it? That had to be the temper talking. It had to be! There was no way the kid could think that they didn't want him around after all these years. That's what Derek had tried to convince himself when he'd stormed around his home later that night. Only, the more he thought about it, the more he started to see a pattern that left his stomach twisting a little and guilt gnawing at him.

He couldn't remember the last time any of them had gone out with Spencer when he'd asked. He used to ask periodically, but he'd never made it seem like a big deal if they turned him down, or instead suggested that they get together somewhere else, with everyone else. Spencer had always agreed to it.

When was the last time the kid had asked, though? The fact that Derek couldn't think of a time was enough to make the guilt worse.

Then his brain had run over conversations with Spencer lately. Not just between the two of them, but as a team, and what he'd come up with hadn't helped him feel any better. Because most of the moments that he thought of with Spencer talking were case related. Beyond that, he didn't think he'd seen Spencer talking all that much. And the ones that he could remember, they made him cringe a little because usually they involved someone either rolling their eyes at his ramble, or one of them using the tricks they'd perfected over the years to divert him off the topic and onto something else. Those tricks had once been employed to help out in the moments where Spencer could get so focused on one fascinating thing that he forgot not everyone wanted or needed to hear it. When had they started to use it to cut him off in regular conversation as well?

It'd been a long night of soul searching and guilt for Derek and he'd come to work this morning with the resolve to sit down and talk to the kid he would've once tried to claim as his best friend. Last night had showed him that maybe he wasn't as deserving of that tile as he thought he was.

But more and more time was passing and when Derek looked up again, the hour had come and gone and still Spencer hadn't arrived.

_Wow, I must've really pissed him off_, Derek thought first. Then he paused. Would Spencer really not come in just because of a fight they had? Would he really avoid work just because of that?

He was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of Emily's voice beside him, startling him enough that he actually jumped. Derek spun in his chair to find the woman grinning at him. "Sorry," She apologized, not sounding sorry at all. "Didn't mean to startle you. You just looked like something was bothering you."

"It's fine. Just, worrying, I guess." Derek snuck another look up at the clock.

Emily followed his gaze and her own eyes lit with understanding, sliding down to Spencer's empty desk and then over to Derek again. She didn't bother pretending that she didn't know what he was worrying about. "Maybe he's sick." She offered.

"Maybe." It was possible. But he hadn't seemed sick last night.

Turning her attention fully towards Derek, Emily furrowed her brow and watched him for a moment. "You think it's something else?"

For a brief moment Derek hesitated. Then he sighed and lifted a hand to run over his head. "Reid and I got into an argument last night. We said some pretty rough things to one another."

Emily's eyes went wide and her eyebrows shot up. "You think he's skipping out on work to avoid you."

"It's a lot more plausible than him mysteriously being sick. Reid doesn't handle confrontation very well."

"He's never let it get in the way of his work before." Emily pointed out.

She was right, too. Even when it was hard for him, Spencer didn't let things get in the way of him doing his job. "It's just a paperwork day, though, and he knows it. Knowing him, he's got his done already."

"Then maybe Hotch gave him the day off."

Another plausible reason. Derek knew he was probably reading too much into this; he was probably overreacting to it all. Spencer wasn't the type to skip work just because he was upset about something. He'd just be the kind to come in quietly and ignore everything and do his work, and if Derek tried to talk to him he'd just smile and nod and accept his apology and everything would be fine, because Spencer wasn't the type to hold grudges. He was the type to forgive everyone for everything.

Even if a part of him still felt a bit uneasy, Derek convinced himself that Emily had to be right. Spencer had to be sick, or Aaron had to have given him the day off. They were the logical answers here. He was sure that had to be what was going on.

He stayed sure of it, right up until lunch when Aaron came into the bullpen looking more serious than Derek could remember seeing him for quite a long time. "We need to go." Their Unit Chief told them, rapping his knuckles against the door to Dave's office before opening it. When he spoke, it was to both rooms, drawing the attention of his entire team. "I just got a call from the local PD for Reid's apparent. Someone's broken in and they can't find Reid."

* * *

Never before had Derek ever driven so fast without being involved in some high-speed pursuit. He swore he broken records getting from the Bureau to Spencer's apartment. He wasn't the only one, either. Aaron was driving the SUV in front of him and the man went just as fast if not faster than Derek did. The whole drive over there, all Derek could think about was his stupid argument with Spencer and the way he'd brushed things off this morning, assuming that Spencer was either sick or avoiding him. _How could I have been so stupid?_ He growled at himself. _I should've known something was up. I should've realized that there was something going on when he didn't show up for work. I shouldn't have just brushed it off!_

The guilt gnawed at him worse than it had last night. Seeing the cop cars already parked outside of Spencer's building only made that feeling worse. By the time that they finally made it upstairs to Spencer's apartment, the whole team was silent, each one of them wearing a serious expression.

Seeing the officers standing guarding outside Spencer's door and milling around inside was like a fist to the gut. Derek had to push down his feelings as best as he could to make himself take that first step inside.

What he saw when he got inside was enough to shake and almost break his control. The first thing Derek noticed wasn't the people, it was the state of the apartment. The couch was crooked, out of place, and books and knickknacks were spread out all over the place. One of the end tables was tipped over and it looked like his coffee table had been smashed completely, like something hard had landed on it. _Or someone_. Even as Derek's heart clenched, the profiler in him read the room around him, easily seeing the struggle that had taken place here. Someone had taken Spencer and they'd found more of a fight than they'd expected.

There were a handful of police officers in the room. One of them, an older gentleman that the BAU had worked with before, a police chief by the name of Marv Neel, was talking with a distinguished looking older gentleman that Derek had never seen before. The man was tall, probably around Derek's height, with an average looking build. His face was set with high cheekbones and a slightly pointed noise, and he had short, dark hair. His face was calm his whole body looked at ease. He looked like the most relaxed person in the room, right up until you looked at his eyes. There were lines around his eyes and the blue of them was dim and heavy with worry.

"I'm not sure what more I can tell y'." The man was saying to Marv. "I don't know all de details. M' son will be here soon an he'll give y' everyt'ing he knows about what's going on."

Marv nodded and slipped his pencil back into his pocket while he folded up the notepad in his hand. "Thank you, Mr. LeBeau. You've been a great help. I promise you, we're going to do everything we can to bring your son home."

The word son had Derek freezing halfway into the room. Son? His son? So, there had been more than just Spencer here. That changed things drastically. If Spencer and someone else had been taken, that meant that it was definitely more than one person who had come in here. Knowing that it was a team changed things drastically.

When the police chief turned, he caught sight of the BAU team coming in and he lit up a little at the sight of them. "Agent Hotchner." He greeted Aaron, giving a nod to the rest of them. The two men shook hands briefly and then Marv let go to reach back and put a hand on the shoulder of the man still beside him. "I've just been speaking with Dr. Reid's father-in-law. He showed up just after we arrived. I thought you might want to speak with him so I had him stick around instead of taking him downtown for his statement."

Derek and Emily exchanged a stunned look at the words 'father-in-law'. When Derek glanced over, Dave's eyebrows were up with surprise and Aaron's were drawn down, giving the Unit Chief a hawk-like stare as he looked at the man. "Father-in-law?"

"_Oui_." The man drawled out. His voice carried the sounds of the south, flavored with a Cajun edge that was just a bit smoother and more sophisticated sounding than Will's—JJ's partner. The man straightened up and held a hand out to Aaron. "Jean-Luc LeBeau. I'm pleased to finally met y', though I wish it was under better circumstances. I've heard Spencer speak about y' plenty enough dat I feel like I already know all of y'."

Derek couldn't contain himself; staring at this man who was claiming to be Spencer's father-in-law, who was acting like he had some right here, Derek blurted out "Reid's not married."

That seemed to throw the man. He let go of Aaron's hand and turned his eyes to Derek. There was a perplexed look on his face. "What're y' talking about?" Jean-Luc looked confused, his eyes as sharp as glass as they cut from one person to the next. "He and Remy have been married for eight months now. I attended de wedding m'self. It was beautiful."

"Who's Remy?" JJ asked.

Jean-Luc drew back like he'd been slapped. His eyes went wide and his mouth actually dropped open a little. He looked at them all like he was waiting for one of them to start laughing or tell him that this was some joke. When they all met his look with their own confused stares, his eyebrows shot up. "Y've got to be kidding me? Y'r telling me not a one of y' even know who Remy is?" They said nothing and Jean-Luc closed his eyes and blew out a breath, looking suddenly so much older. "Ah, petit." He muttered something else that sounded like French, far too low for any of them to really catch it.

Anything else he might've said was cut off when a loud noise in the hallway drew all their attention. Derek turned to look just as a sharp voice snapped out "I suggest y' get de fuck outta m' way b'fore I make y'. Dat's m' home and y' aint stoppin' me from goin' in dere!" A second later there was a low snarl and then Derek got his first look at Remy LeBeau.

The Cajun came in like a whirlwind. There was only a brief moment to take him in—tall, probably a bit taller than Spencer, dressed in old, well-worn jeans and some dark shirt that was mostly covered by the brown trench coat that he wore, and loose auburn hair that hung around a furious looking face that was in need of a shave—and then this Remy caught sight of Jean-Luc and he was flying forward and straight to the man's side, already talking before he'd even taken two steps. "Is dere any news yet?"

"None." Jean-Luc answered immediately. He reached out for Remy, ignoring the round of curses the man was letting out, and he laid a hand on his son's shoulder. The grip was firm, obviously meant as a support, as were the next words. "We'll find him, Rem. Don't y' worry. We'll find him."

"Y'r damn right we will. I knew I should've stayed here!" There was another spattering of curses, this time in French, and Remy rubbed a hand over his face. Sunglasses hid his eyes but it wasn't hard to tell that his gaze had turned Jean-Luc's direction. "He said he had dis shit under control. Dat he was _safe_. I should've been here!"

"Y' can't blame y'rself for dis, Rem. Y' had no idea dis was going to happen, an we both know dat Spencer aint de type to worry anyone more dan he has to. He wanted y' to go to dis. Y' been here nonstop lately an he knew y' needed to get out. Dat's why I was coming, remember? We tried to keep someone wit' him. De _connard _dat did dis, dey waited perfectly until he was alone. If it hadn't been now, it would've been another time. We couldn't keep him under lock and key."

Remy snarled and jerked back from his father's touch. "Y' just watch me! When I get him back, I'm lockin' his fuckin' ass t' dat bed till dis shit is taken care of! He aint going nowhere alone anymore. M' heart can't take it."

"Remy," Jean-Luc hesitated, eyes flashing to the profilers who were all staring at the two of them. Then he reached out for Remy again and took hold of his shoulder once more. "Remy, I need y' to calm down for a minute. Spencer's team is here..."

Remy's head snapped up and he looked at them with surprise, followed quickly by an anger that stunned them all. The Cajun growled and took a small step forward. "Where de hell were all of y', huh?" He demanded furiously. Lifting one hand, he gestured towards the broken apartment around them. "Where exactly were y' when he was gettin' taken, hm? Y' was supposed to be watchin' out fo' him! He told me y' had dis shit handled! Does dis look fuckin' handled t' y'?"

None of the profilers got a chance to speak. Jean-Luc squeezed Remy's shoulder and drew him back somewhat. "Remy..."

"What?" Remy spun to face his father, his hands up and gesturing wildly. "Dey were supposed to watch out fo' him! Spencer said dey had it under control. Dey were supposed to have dis _connard_ captured by now, Papa!"

"Dey don't know."

The words were said lowly, as if that would somehow soften the blow of them, and Derek watched as Remy went completely and utterly still. Derek found himself holding his breath without even realizing he was doing it as Remy turned just a little bit so that he could face his father, completely dismissing the profilers and officers who were all watching this scene unfold. "_Excusez-moi_?"

Jean-Luc's expression was pained. He looked over at the BAU team and then back to his son. "I'm pretty sure dey don't know what's going on. Dey don't know anyt'ing, Remy." The man drew in a deep breath and obviously braced himself. Derek could see as his hand tightened on Remy's shoulder as if attempting to hold him in place. "Remy, dey didn't… dey didn't know who y' were. Dey didn't even know Spencer was married."

"What're y' talkin' about?" Remy demanded. "Of course dey know! We've been married fo' eight fuckin' months, Papa."

"Dey had no idea who I was, or who y' were when I said y'r name. Dey don't know who we are, Remy. I don't… I don't t'ink Spencer told dem."

"Of course he did!" Spinning towards the profilers, Remy fixed them with a glare that could be felt even through his sunglasses. "What kinda game are y' pullin' here? Of course y' know! I been dating Spencer fo' almost two years total now. He said he sent y' invitations t' de wedding and everything! Y' had dat damn case dat cropped up. Spencer told me all about it!"

This whole thing was so surreal. Derek wanted to stand there and deny it all right in this Remy's face. He wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that this was a stupid joke and someone should stop it now because it wasn't funny and Spencer was missing and they had better things to do with their time than listen to something like this. But even as he started to do it, a few things were popping up in his mind, memories of his argument with Spencer last night. "You never listen!" Spencer had shouted at him. And "Even when it's important to me, the most important thing that's ever happened to me, none of you could be bothered to listen long enough for me to tell you! When I needed you all, none of you were there. None of you even noticed anything was going on!"

_No._ It wasn't possible. There was no way they'd missed something like this! How could Spencer have been dating someone for _two years_, married to them for _eight months_, and the team didn't know about it? How could they have missed something like this?

More memories drifted forward. Spencer, so long ago, telling them that he had someone important to introduce them to. Derek remembered cracking some kind of joke and everyone laughing, but he didn't remember anything coming of it. Had Spencer wanted to introduce them to Remy? And another time, Spencer coming to him, telling him that he wanted to talk to him, that there was something important. Derek cringed as the memory washed over him. He'd been fresh off a break-up and if he remembered right, he'd been rather nasty when he'd brushed Spencer off.

Had the others done the same thing? He looked at them and saw the same things on their faces that he was feeling inside. Guilt. Had they all really brushed Spencer off so much that he felt he hadn't been able to tell them something like this? Something as important as getting married? Jesus Christ, Spencer was _married_. Not only had they somehow missed this, Spencer had actually lied to his husband to cover for them. He'd lied about inviting them, about them having a case. He'd lied about them knowing Remy even existed. Derek felt like he was going to throw up.

"_Bon Dieu_." Remy breathed out the words, drawing back a little from them. "Y'r not kiddin'. Y've got no damn idea who I am, do y'?"

"I'm sorry." Dave said, and he sounded like he meant it. He sounded almost as guilty as Derek felt. "We've never heard your name before today."

One of Remy's hands pressed against his own stomach while his other went up to rest over top of the one Jean-Luc still had on his shoulder. Derek had a feeling that, if he could've seen Remy's eyes, they would've been closed. "Spencer." The way Remy said it was both a prayer and a curse. Then he let out a shuddering breath. "When I get m' hands on him, I'm gonna kick his ass. Den I'm gonna kick every one of y'rs fo' not fuckin' knowing de important shit in de life of someone y' got de nerve t' call y'r friend." The threats were delivered in a calm voice, a simple statement of fact, without any ounce of worry for making that threat to a group of federal agents and right in front of a bunch of police officers. Remy shook his head before he suddenly drew himself together and straightened up. "Considering y'all didn't even know I existed, I feel pretty safe in assumin' dat y' aint got a clue about de threats dat Spencer's been getting lately."

That was enough to have everyone perking up. The other things, those didn't go away, but Spencer was missing and they had to focus. They had to find him. Everything else could be dealt with afterwards.

"We weren't aware of any threats." Aaron answered him calmly.

Remy snorted, his lip curling up in a small sneer, making it absolutely clear just what he thought of them. It was clear it wasn't the least bit flattering. "Go figure. I got about fifteen minutes till Scotty and m' team gets here and den y'all are on y'r own. Let's go sit down in de kitchen and I'll tell y' all about it. Papa, would y' go grab de papers outta de safe in our room? De combo's seventeen-twelve-thirty five-eighteen. Dere should be all de letters and shit Spencer's been gettin' lately." Without waiting for a response, Remy turned and made his way towards the kitchen, gesturing with one hand over his shoulder for the others to follow him. "C'mon. Dis is gonna take a bit an we might as well get outta de way of de vultures pickin' deir way through m' home. If I gotta stand here an watch em while I talk, I'm gonna end up causin' some damage of m' own."

It was a stunned and silent group that followed this man towards the kitchen, each one of them wondering what the hell was going on and when everything had decided to stop making sense.


	34. The Light in the Dark

The vibrations of the train around them had long ago soothed Spencer Reid down into sleep. It was something that Logan was grateful for as he sat beside the young man in the train car that was taking them closer and closer to their destination. Shifting his arm a little, Logan tried to adjust them both in the hopes of making his young charge just a little bit more comfortable. If he was going to sleep the trip away he should at least be comfortable while he was doing it. It wasn't like there was much in his life that was all that comfortable for him right now.

He couldn't quite resist bringing up his free hand to stroke over Spencer's hair. Just looking down at him had Logan's heart aching a little more. The protective urge he was known for swelled up inside of him at seeing Spencer looking so small and vulnerable. It made him want to do nothing more than protect him and shelter him from any more harm. The man under his arm had always inspired that urge in him, stronger than anyone else that Logan had ever met. It had only become worse since the accident.

Thinking of that had Logan wanting to growl. A slight shift from the body against his had him looking down. Practiced eyes took in the tiny furrow between Spencer's eyebrows and easily understood what was happening. Even asleep, the little path under his arm was far too aware of the thoughts and emotions around him and he was always more in tune with Logan's than anyone else's.

Sighing, Logan closed his eyes and rested his head back against his seat, trying to let the steady rumble of the train relax him and soothe his thoughts and emotions down. It wasn't working all that well. Too many details and memories were keeping him from really being able to relax. In his mind he could clearly remember the call that had changed everything. Just a few words that had turned his world around. "_There's been an accident_." Aaron Hotchner had told him over the phone. "_Reid's been hurt. He…he's in a coma_." And like that, Logan's world was upside down. SSA Dr. Spencer Reid, his scrawny little awkward genius, the man who called him _Pater—_Latin for Dad—was in a coma.

How he got there was an absolute blur. Afterwards, he'd been told that Hank flew both him and Scott—who was almost as close to the kid as he was—to the hospital that their friend, a man Logan considered his son, was in. But nothing was really clear until that first instant that he'd walked in and seen what Spencer had looked like.

A horrible accident, they said. One of the Unsubs on a case had set off a bomb and Spencer hadn't been fast enough to get away. The words were horrifying. They acted as their own bomb, shattering parts of Logan's life into pieces. When Logan had looked at the bed and seen that so-still body with all the tubes coming from him and into him, filling him with medicine and helping him to breathe, he had barely been able to move. In all the time he'd known him, he had never seen Spencer so still or quiet. It had been devastating. Beside him, Scott had been just as stunned, just as heartbroken.

For days, Logan and Scott had stayed with the boy. Scott and Spencer were good friends, having known each other before Logan and Scott had even met. They'd laughed about it plenty of times, how Spencer had met both Scott and Logan separately and had kept friends with them for years, only to have the two eventually meet at the Mansion of all places without any help from Spencer. Scott would joke back that the only thing that allowed them to be friends was their shared affection for Spencer. "If it weren't for that, we would've tried to kill each other a long time ago." Scott joked.

No one could deny that either man cared about Spencer. It was obvious in the vigil they took up beside his bed. Eventually, though, work had called Scott back to the mansion and he'd had to leave. It'd taken threats from others and promises from Logan to keep him updated twice a day that finally got him to agree to going.

Then one day, a week after the accident, Spencer finally woke. Logan had been the one in the room with him and he wasn't ashamed of the tears that had filled his eyes as he watched Spencer slowly wake up. Even before the kid was fully alert, his hand twitched around Logan's and there was a faint brush of his powers against Logan's mind as he assured himself who was around him. It was a boost to the ego to see as Spencer recognized him and immediately relaxed.

Doctors had been called in and they'd quickly checked Spencer over, monitoring and assessing him as he came back to consciousness. All the while Spencer's hand stayed locked around Logan's, a link in the middle of chaos. By the time the doctors were done, Spencer had fallen asleep. He'd woken a few hours later and a doctor had come in to remove the breathing tube from Spencer's throat. After that, they'd received the biggest shock of all. Spencer's eyes, once he opened them, weren't the pure white that they'd once been. He'd worn contacts most of his life to hide his pure white eyes. When he'd opened for the first time after the accident them while lying in that hospital bed, it hadn't been the pure pools of white that Logan had expected – there'd been black. Endless pools of blackness.

Spencer had turned toward those dark eyes towards Logan and squinted at him like he was trying to get his eyes to work. Then they'd widened in a horror Logan knew he wouldn't forget. "_Pater_?" The hand in Logan's had clenched tighter before the kid uttered the words that stunned them all. "I can't see you. I can't see!"

The doctors said it was caused by intracranial pressure. Apparently the blow to the head he'd received had caused there to be swelling which had put pressure on his brain, or something like that. Logan wasn't quite sure. He didn't understand everything they said, though Spencer seemed to. Test after test showed no further damage to his brain—no memory loss, no loss of functions. Just his eyesight. That was the only thing that was gone. And they gave him no promise that it would ever return. Logan just couldn't believe it. For a kid who loved to read, who worked as an FBI agent, who was in the prime of his life…to be stripped of something like his eyesight! It was horrifying.

He didn't give up hope that Spencer would regain it. He absolutely refused to give up hope. It just wasn't in Logan to give up. Especially not with one of his pups. With that hope inside of him, he told Spencer that he wanted to have Dr. Hank McCoy take a look at him. "You never know, brat. He might be able to help. Considering what it's done to your eyes, there's a good chance this could have something to do with your mutation. Who knows? And staying at the mansion for a while will give your body time to heal. You know they'll welcome you there." And Spencer had agreed.

Even without his connection to Logan and Scott, Spencer would have been welcome at the mansion. All mutants were. And, if Professor Charles Xavier ever learned of Spencer's true strength in his mutation, he would most definitely want the boy there, eyesight or no eyesight. Spencer was a dual 'path', as they called it. Empath and telepath both. Both mutations were equal in strength and both were stronger than any Logan had met—and that included the Professor. It was with those abilities, actually, that Spencer managed to move around without his eyes.

He had tried to describe it to Logan as they'd been getting ready to leave the hospital. "Every person has this sort of presence to them, _Pater_. A spark, you'd call it. I don't know how it is for another telepath or empath, but having the two kind of combines my senses together. I don't see just their mind, but the bundle of emotions that's them as well. It makes for this spark where the person is. A bundle of their life essence and their emotions. I can sense those in my mind. Without my eyes, I use those to tell me where people are."

Between that and the bit of therapy they'd been giving him in his bed to help prepare him for a sightless world, the kid managed to get around, though he still needed help. There was plenty that he wasn't going to be able to even start doing yet. His body wasn't healed enough for him to try any practice with one of the white canes he was going to have to use. For now, he was still on a regular cane to make sure he'd even be able to walk at all. The other cane would have to come later.

The body against him shifted, drawing Logan's attention back to the present moment. He looked down at the boy against him and noted the tightness around his lips and the subtle change in his scent. Spencer was hurting. They'd known the train ride would hurt, but it was better than trying to stuff him in a car with his injuries and flying wasn't smart with the head injury he'd suffered. So, as soon as the doctor had cleared it, they'd taken the train. But the jostling motions were probably bringing to life the pain and Spencer's refusal to take anything narcotic would make him feel it all the more.

Spencer was stubborn, that was for sure. Logan smiled at that. In every way but blood, the kid really was like his son, even down to personality. They shared some personality traits that made them seem like they really were related.

Adjusting his arm, Logan tried to get Spencer a little more comfortable, hoping to relieve some of his pain. When they arrived, he was going to take his boy to his apartment here in the city. They could rest there for a while before making their way to the mansion. Then, they would see what they would see. Closing his eyes, he let himself drift a little.


End file.
